


Ghost of the Keep

by Serazimei



Series: Soulbound [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Invisible Shenanigans, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Papa Vesemir, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Witcher Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: After Jaskier reveals himself in Oxenfurt they set out to Kaer Morhen together. There the two test out their new bond by pranking Geralts brothers and betting with Vesemir about who will catch on first.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir
Series: Soulbound [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742272
Comments: 406
Kudos: 1174





	1. Chapter 1

They had been on the road leading away from Oxenfurt for a little over a week now. More than seven days since Jaskier found the courage to turn visible again and tell Geralt about how he had saved the Witchers soul from the goddess Arda, exchanging his in turn.

A lot of time spent in each others company, trying to heal from the harsh words on the mountain and the months of missing each other while simultanously being so close. Not enough time at all for Jaskier to recover from the long stretch of self enforced, fear induced silence, invisibility and pain. Time spent talking about anything and everything as long as it wasn't about feelings or apologies or the fact that Jaskier had accidently somehow bound his soul to Geralts tighter than the Witcher had done with his and Yennefers through the djinns wish.

The first few days of Jaskiers won back visibility was spend bombarding anyone and everyone, willing or unwilling to listen, with a flood of words. Geralt, naturally, bore the brunt of this. The bard did feel a bit bad about his suddenly much more profound inability to stop talking, but then he also wasn‘t very inclined to stop.

He had been silent for months! He needed to get all the words that had built up in his head over that period of time out of his system, damn it.

„Please don‘t let this become the new normal.“ Geralt begged – seriously begged – him once they left Oxenfurt and turned north east towards the Blue Mountains. The man had been surprisingly patient with him ever since Jaskier had found the courage to reveal himself. But even a Witcher trained to endure the worst of the worst had his breaking point.

„But Geralt, I still have so much to say! There was so much to comment on when I couldn‘t and now I can and I really need to make all the clever quips I‘ve thought of-“

„I don‘t even remember the context of most of them anymore.“ Geralt interrupted with a groan. Roach gave a whinney in agreement. She had been delighted when she had seen Jaskier coming to greet her in full view again. Or as delighted as a grumpy horse with years of taken on horrible habits from an even grumpier Witcher could be.

Now she would not tolerate him walking behind her, oftentimes pushing until her flank was pressed to Jaskiers side. Eventually Geralt had had to step between them after Roachs hooves nearly accidently trampled on Jaskiers feet one to many times.

This meant that they were both walking now and Jaskier felt like that had been exactly what the intelligent horse had wanted. Not that the new arrangement made for any less of a onesided conversation.

„But _I_ do! I can describe to you vividly-“

„Don‘t.“

Jaskier pouted and huffed, but wasn‘t able to stay mad or quiet for long enough to really pull off a good sulk.

„Why don‘t you sing instead?“ Geralt prompted, patting Roach while he did.

„What?“ This was new. Geralt had never, ever before asked him to sing.

„You must have had lyrics stuck in your head, too.“ the Witcher explained with halting words, going for a nonchalant half shrug.

Well he wasn‘t wrong. It was just… odd. For some reason Jaskier always waited for the moment everything would go back to normal. But Geralt kept surprising him with moments of _this_. Where he would say or do something so alien to their usual routine that it threw Jaskier out of the loop completely.

Never one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, however, he swung his lute to his front and began to test out some melodies that had been swirling around his head for ages now.

 _Beware the garden in the night/when shadows grow ever longer/for there encased by moons vaning light/stands a woman pale as snow/_ Hmph the rhyming was off and the words a bit too foreboding. Not at all good for the rather cheerfully creepy melody he was thinking about using for this song.

„The Bruxa hunt?“ Geralt guessed.

„Yes. I talked to the lords son, you know? A real sweetheart, and adoring fan of mine. Apologized for his father, asked for a song, told me where the cash and wine was and even gave me some of his clothes! Really how the two were even related. Maybe he inherited the softness from his deceased mother. Anyway he thought it would be a good idea to turn the whole story into a nursery rhyme type of song. Cheerful yet scary. Something to warn off others about strange ladies on private properties and trying to cheat Witchers off their due payment.“

„Hm.“

„Yes, hm. I thought it was a good idea. I‘ll call it the Moonlit Lady, probably. At least for now-“

„Jaskier, didn‘t you want to sing?“ Geralt sighed, rubbing through Roachs mane. The horse neighed in agreement.

„I‘m composing! I need to think out loud and test the lines when I do. Anyway you asked-“

„Yes...that one was on me, clearly.“

~~~

During the day Jaskier was as loud and bright as he could get away with. At night he slipped into invisibility again. He did so while Geralt was still around after one horrible attempt that had let to the Witcher nearly tearing their camp apart in panic, looking for his missing companion. Jaskier might have enjoyed the hug that followed after, but not the look of pure devastation as Geralt had thought Jaskier had fled from him once again.

Now they had both agreed on yet another new routine. Jaskier turned himself invisible in front of Geralt, before the man went out to get their dinner. The time he was gone was enough for the bard to prepare the camp site and find a good spot for lurking. Once he was done with his tasks he waited until the Witcher came back, careful to stay downwind.

The Witcher glanced around curiously, alert but for a moment before starting to prepare the hares he had caught.

The bard shifted his weight from one foot to the other until Geralt was done, the hares roasting over the fire and the Witcher settling a ways away to meditate.  
Carefully, as quiet as humanly possible, Jaskier snuck up behind him and once he was close enough pounced on his victims back.

The vertigo of suddenly being grappled and swung over the Witchers shoulder made his head spin. He shrieked in delight as he struggled against the grip, the two of them rolling around the dirt trying to subdue each other.

Jaskier had willed himself to be visible again if only to erase the tension in the other mans shoulders. It was easier for Geralt to control his strength if he could see the bards grinning face.

They came a bit close to the fire every now and then, throwing playful punches, bucking up into the one currently on top to throw them off. But Geralt always made sure they didn‘t roll over it, keeping the bard save even in this.

„I yield!“ Jaskier yelled, slightly breathless from the exercise.

Even though he had ended up on top he knew he was the loser here. Geralt had slung his arms and legs around him like an octopus, completely immobilzing him. From there it would have only been a matter of rolling over to end the fight.

And anyway he liked the position he was in now.

Geralt, ever the gentleman, let him have a few seconds to catch his breath, playfully ruffling the bards hair, before untangling himself to push him off.

„You have to become much quieter if you want to be able to sneak up on Eskel or Lambert. Don‘t move around so much, when you wait.“

"Understood. Although I doubt I could be much quieter than that. Your Witcher hearing is hard to fool. How did you not notice I was there the whole time I tailed you as Ghost."

They both sat down beside each other reaching for their dinner. They were close, legs and shoulders rubbing together. Yet another thing that made Jaskiers heart break and sing at the same time. Geralt kept him closer now, seeking casual touches to make sure the bard was really there.

"Just because I didn't react doesn't mean that I didn't know you were there."

"Hm." Jaskier imitated the sound Geralt usually made, thoughtful and unbelieving as he bit into the bland muscle of what was once the hares leg.

"I might have not known it was you... still knew something was there."

Roach snorted at them from where she was tied up, judging them both. If for their previous wrestling, their inability to adress the elephant in the room or the obliviousness and stubborness the two had shown in the last months was up to the observer to decide.

Jaskier shifted to press closer against his companion, silent for once, seeking out the warmth and comfort of Geralts body. The air around them was turning ever colder, the first frost hardening the roads. They were close to Trelogor and from there they would march on to Ard Carraigh, the last stop before the climb up the Blue Mountains, stopping at the smaller towns along the way.

Winter was fast approaching and the bard hoped they were making good time. He didn't want to think about walking the Killer during a blizzard.

"Tell me what they are like, your brothers. Three sentences or more."

"Don't need that many."

He needed more. There even was a whole Limerick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that I'm not overdoing it with the fic posting these days XD I'm also currently writing another, huger than planned, story so Updates might be a bit slower than usual.
> 
> That said I probably spent more time on that tidbit of song lyrics than the whole rest. Writing good songs is hard and I suck at it XD
> 
> Anyway hope you enjoyed the short prologue for this story~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Chapter Title: Frozen Greetings  
> I never have enough ideas for chapter titles, but I liked this one for some reason, so I'm sharing it in the notes XD
> 
> That said thank you soooo much for all the kudos and comments! I'm currently busy as hell so I don't have much time writing back,  
> but I enjoy reading every last one of them~

By the time they reached the trail leading up the mountains Jaskier was sure that he had learned the skills to be the worlds best spy should he ever want for a job like that. He was also pretty sure his dick would freeze off before they were even halfway up the pass. That or his toes. Or both.

"It's not even that cold yet, Jas."

"Maybe for you hot blood. I, however, am just a poor weak human-"

"You can turn invisible and turn off your heartbeat."

"A poor, cursed-"

"You said it was a blessing."

"Blessing, curse, it's all in the eye of the beholder. That and Arda obviously didn't know what she was doing. Anyway I'm just a poor, weak, cursed human whose ability to stop the bodies bloodflow will not aid at all in not freezing to death."

"Hm."

 _Cuddle me damn it!_ Jaskier was very close to screaming at the emotionally stunted Witcher. It was a stupid request he knew, given that they were still walking up the damn, tricky path and sharing warmth in such an intimate way would just make his poor wanting heart hurt. Logic had packed up and gone on a vacation decades ago however, even before the bard had decided to flirt with a menacing Witcher in a shaby tavern in Posada. His self preservation instinct had quit right after, but that was another matter entirely.

"How long until we're there?" he whined instead, just for good measure. Fuck he couldn't feel his feet anymore.

"Not long."

"You've said that two days ago!"

"Still holds true."

"You're horrible. The worst. Absolutely heartless- Oof!"

"Quit complaining."

Geralt had dropped his heavy cloak onto Jaskiers shoulders and the bard scrambled to get his stiff fingers to grip the thick fabric before it could slide off again. Not what he had wanted, but better than nothing.

"Maybe you're not so bad after all." he mumbled shoving his nose into the fur lining.

They kept trudging on, the weather only growing more hostile as time went by, the climb getting harder and harder.

Geralt kept him between himself and Roach now, to shield him from the wind and make sure he had someone to latch onto should he stumble, which he did, more and more often as they went.

For short distances Jaskier was allowed to ride on Roach, but that wasn't possible much. The path had turned slippery and treacherous so that the mare needed to be free of any more baggage to navigate it safely.

They made one last stop for the night in a little hut that Geralt promised wasn't far from the keep. So far only a Wyvern and a pack of wolves had crossed them, both minor hurdles easily taken care of by the experienced Witcher. Jaskier was thankful for that. The way up had already proven to be near impossible for a human to master even without the added danger of monsters.

It was a testament to how exhausted he was when he couldn't even let out a shout of joy when he saw the towers of the keep growing on the horizon. At that point the only thing keeping him upright and walking was pure determination and pride. Despite the planned shenanigans he wanted to make a good first impression. He couldn't do that if Geralt had to carry him into Kaer Morhen.

The castle gates opened for them as they neared, keen Witcher eyes having spotted them probably already from miles away. And Jaskier had never before known stage fright, but coming face to face with Geralts mentor came damn close.

The weathered mans expression that greeted them was as stony as Geralts best brooding face and yet the old Witcher had no qualms about pulling the White Wolf into a brief, firm hug. Jaskier was given a brief once over and a nod, curiousity shining in those familiar eyes, hidden well, but not well enough for the bard.

"You are quite early this year. Your brothers haven't returned yet." Vesemir noted as he ushered them into the safety of the stone walls.

"Jaskier wouldn't have made it at a later date."

"Hm. He looks a tad exhausted. How was the trek up?"

The bard left them to their conversation, not very bothered by the fact that he was being talked over as though he wasn't there. Although he briefly checked if he had accidently gone invisible or something. It hadn't happened before, but he had also never been this fucking tired.

After leading Roach into the stable and giving her some treats and a proper rub down, Vesemir led them into what Jaskier presumed to be the dining hall. A roaring fire heated up the room and was casting flickering shadows along the high stone walls. The sudden big change in temperatures made Jaskiers head spin. Thankfully Geralt put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"The lad's nearly dead on his feet, get him in front of the fire, make sure to rub some feeling back into his limbs. Doesn't seem like he has hypothermia yet, but it's a close miss."

Settling onto the frayed and spotty rug, flames stretching to try and snatch just a bit of his cloak, was like sitting down on a cloud. Surreal and heavenly.

Jaskier let out a semi conscious whine at the cloak being taken away, but the sound was soon exchanged for one of delight as a warm cup of what smelled like some kind of herbal tea was pressed into his hands.

Voices floated close by and away again, Jaskier barely able to keep his eyes open and fingers wrapped around his beverage. He would have loved to listen in on the two Witchers catching up, but dreamland was already invading his mind.

A warm, solid form pressed into his back after a while, arms winding around him and settling on top of his hands to keep the mug from falling. Jaskier leaned back into Geralt with a sigh finally getting what he had been craving the whole way up.

Pinpricks and needles ran along his limbs as they slowly warmed back up, Geralts big, calloused hands rubbing up and down his arms and skimming lightly over delicate fingers. The tea helped to bring the heat back to his core, but didn't do shit against his sleepiness.

He didn't notice when the world lost him, distracted as he was by the triumph of having made it up the Killer, by Geralts reassuring, gentle proximity and the strong feeling of finally being home even if it wasn't his own. It only occured to him that he must have fallen asleep after he woke up to the rhythmic ringing of a blade being sharpened. His body was burrowed under mounds of heavy fur blankets, barely letting him breath.

Geralt, the bastard, didn't try to help him out in the slightest. Instead the ass laughed at his expense as Jaskier tried to will his still protesting limbs to get him out of his nest. Eventually he succeeded by shimmying to the side until he fell out of the bed.

"Fuuuck." he groaned, picking himself from the floor.

"Good morning."

"Fuck you, too." Jaskier muttered as he glared at the shadow of a smirk on his companions face. Of course Geralt was already up and about. And of course he was still looking gorgeous and absolutely uneffected by the harsh trek up to the keep.

A shiver ran through his body, the cold air finally registering in his brain and chasing away at least part of the leftover drowsiness. Jaskier scrambled for his bag and pulled out his winter wear.

"Vesemir is out doing his rounds. He should be back soon." Geralt started while Jaskier dressed himself. "We'll tend to the animals and talk to him about our little training plan afterwards."

"Sounds good. Any chance there's going to be food somewhere in between then and now?"

"Hm."

"Thank the gods. Lead the way."

After a hearty midday meal (Jaskier had slept far longer than was probably allowed in the early days in the keep), they made their way down to the courtyard and Geralt instructed him on what he had to do. Not long after Vesemir showed up again and decided to linger.

As was his speciality Jaskier served up a constant stream of noise, commenting on everything his mind caught onto and asking question after question. Embarrassment rose with every thoughtless word that left his mouth. Vesemir was as much a silent fellow as Geralt and he obviously had no clue what to make of the amount of word vomit thrown his way. But Jaskier couldn't really stop. He was nervous and he wanted Vesemir to like him and fuck he hated the silence that sneaked back in whenever he stopped talking.

At least the old wolf was patient, ignoring most of what the jittery bard said, only interrupting him to give him orders. Geralt, mostly used maybe even reassured by his constant chattering only cast him a few glances now and again. Sometimes he even gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Ah how good it felt to feel appreciated.

Everything tended to and tools safely stored away Vesemir motioned for them to follow him back into the great hall.

"Alright, you two have wanted to tell me something since you got here. Out with it."

"I didn't just bring Jaskier here this winter to let him see the keep." Geralt spoke before Jaskier even had the chance to open his mouth, effectively stopping what would probably have been another far longwinded rambling session.

"I figured as much. You know humans are usually not allowed here, even bards riding the tail coats of Witchers."

The old Witcher looked him over again his face stoic and closed off. He surely found him lacking. Geralt had done so when they first met, too. Jaskier had known it wouldn't be easy to befriend the School of the Wolf. Maybe he wouldn't even befriend them at all. As long as he managed to make them tolerate him that was enough for him. He didn't want to force Geralt to winter away from Kaer Morhen just because he didn't get on with the others. Likewise he didn't want to suffer winter after winter in order to make sure Geralt could meet his family. He would no doubt do it, but it wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Ah yes I'm very grateful to you for not throwing me out immediately. You see that would have gone poorly, given that I'm kinda attached to Geralt and not only as a he's-my-friend-and-I'm-fond-of-him-way."

"You're fucking him?" Vesemir asked Geralt, raising an eyebrow.

 _I wish_ Jaskier whined in his head. "He isn't. A goddess bound my soul to his or something. I physically can't stay away from him."

"Hm." Geralt gave his very important input.

Vesemirs eyebrows only climbed higher. "That is a story I would very much like to hear."

And who was Jaskier, a bard of world renown, to deny a request like that? When he was done the features of the old wolf had softened somewhat, if but a fraction, and a spark had entered his eyes that made Jaskier downright giddy.

"Eskel and Lambert might get furious if they find out what you're up to. I won't protect either of you from their wrath, should they unleash it. Still it might spice up the training and maybe you three won't tear down the keep with your rough housing this year..."

Ohhh Geralt looked downrigh sheepish! Jaskier was burning to know that story. He couldn't wait for the others to arrive, not only for the pranks and stories, but also to see what they were like together.

"So we're allowed?" Jaskier leaned forward, eagerly awaiting the reply.

"Yes."

Jaskier whooped.

"But! You'll show me what you can do. You'll train with me and Geralt and you will do your fair share of chores. This is no playground and not an inn. I will not have you lazing around my keep like a spoiled brat. And Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Run the walls until I tell you to stop. I swear sometimes you're more trouble than the rest of them."

~~~

Jaskier had been expecting to carry his load, never one to shirk from his chores (much). What Geralt hadn't bothered to prepare him for was the sheer amount of tasks just waiting to be dropped on his shoulders, the added training and Vesemirs unwavering scrutinity.

The days before the others arrived Jaskier was given task upon task to complete. He brought wood to all the important rooms, followed Vesemir through the halls, holding buckets filled with mortar as the old Witcher filled the holes in the walls. He dusted shelves and cleaned rooms that probably hadn't seen any guests in decades, being dragged through the whole keep until he knew the layout by heart.

When he was done, sweaty and exhausted, Vesemir would call for him and their practice round would begin.

They started off easy, Jaskier turning invisible, his goal to avoid being caught by Vesemir. The old man was a bloodhound, the first few times Jaskier wasn't able to hide for longer than a few seconds.

"You are too loud. This isn't the wilderness. The stone walls will carry the sound of your footsteps. You need to soften them."

They kept going, an hourglass in the library telling Jaskier how long he needed to hold out until he won the round.

"You walked right into a deadend. These boys know this keep like the back of their hand. And have no doubt that they will hunt you once they know what is going on. You have to be able to out maneuver them."

The whole thing sounded impossible. Even with his added abilities Jaskier had no doubt that the Witchers could easily sniff him out where they determined enough. On some days Jaskier wondered if a little fun was worth all this trouble. Vesemir wouldn't let him go to bed or take a bath until the moon hung high in the sky if he didn't manage to hide from him for the short time he had set.

Jaskier hadn't won a round the first two days.

Sometimes he wondered if the training was even supposed to be for the pranks.

But Jaskier was stubborn. He had bested the mountain, he would see this through as well. When he was finally able to evade Vesemir long for the sand to ran out Geralt was tasked to join the hunt.

"You'll have Eskel and Lambert on your tail next. They will hunt together. You better get used to it." Vesemir told him in response to Jaskiers desperate whine.

Geralt was having far too much fun stalking him down, far more determined to get to Jaskier than Vesemir, who was quick and efficient, but never quite as aggressive. Jaskier tried to spice up the competition by teasing Geralt. It wasn't much, a bit of rubble thrown at his head from behind when he managed to sneak up behind him, a bucket of water drenching the man when he walked through an ajar door to a room he had thought Jaskier to be in.

On one memorable occasion, when Vesemir had shown him how he could mask his scent to a certain degree (a lesson that had made Geralt squirm with discomfort) he even managed to press a handful of snow to Geralts back of the neck.

He had been thrown over the wall and landed in a pile of hay for his trouble, but the high pitched yelp from Geralt and amused scoff from Vesemir had made it worth it.

By the end of the week he was tired, dirty and everything ached, even his clothes. He also wore a bright, proud smile as he leaned into Geralts side eyes trained on the gates. His feet were clad in new soft shoes Vesemir had gifted him that morning. They were made of a soft leather that made him as silent as a cat. He had even gotten a pat on the shoulder for all his efforts.

Now there were waiting with baited breath for the last two Witchers to arrive. Vesemir had seen them walking up the mountain yesterday and they would be home any second. Jaskier could already hear raised, jovial voices and the clatter of a cart.

Before Eskel and Lambert set foot into the keep Vesemir turned towards Jaskier again. "One last thing. Mess with my food and I'll throw you out."

Two dark haired males entered Kaer Morhen, three sets of eyes taking in their forms, fire in their gazes.

The war had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never would have thought I'd ever write a training montage in preparation for a prank war.
> 
> Yet here I am.
> 
> Does anyone know how long it takes to get up to Kaer Morhen btw? I've tried to find some information (aka quick Google search), but couldn't really find anything. I know that Geralt can race Eskel there, but that's the game and time gets wonky there.


	3. Chapter 3

Eskel and Lambert where nothing like Jaskier had thought they would be appearance wise. Of course Jaskier shouldn't have had expected every Witcher to be like Geralt, but then he had met Vesemir and both had been so alike with their white hair and golden eyes that Jaskier had just assumed that was what all Wolf School Witchers looked like. But Lambert and Eskel were dark where Geralt and Vesemir were light.

And these two talked! They were in the middle of an intense discussion as they set foot into the keep, staring intensely at each other. Lambert was swiping broad strokes through the air with the hand that wasn't holding onto a horse, lively and expressive.

Jaskier was absolutely thrilled to meet them, now that he had gotten a glimpse more so than ever before. Of course he had been curious. Geralt hadn't given him much information to work with, only enough to guess at their personalities. He knew that Eskel was polite and avoided eye contact when he lied. And Geralt had told him with quite a few colourful words and a whole limerick how much of a prick Lambert could be. 

But that was about it. Everything else had been hunting tactics and general warnings about Witcher mutations, cautionary tales to make sure Jaskier could survive their wrath should he accidently light their fuses. The few facts he had gotten out of Geralt had only kept him guessing. Seeing them live in front of him now made something hot and anxious churn in his gut. It wasn't exactly stage fright. He had been much more afraid of Vesemir disliking him. It came much closer to the feeling he always got when he was allowed to follow Geralt on a hunt. A sort of fearful, but welcoming anticipation.

All of Jaskiers high expactations crashed like a griffin shot out of the air with Aard however, when Lambert noticed them for the first time and opened his mouth.

"A human? Huh, wasn't aware we were breaking traditions now. Did Geralt win him through the Law of Surprise or something? Does that mean I can bring Aiden next winter?"

Jaskier opened his mouth to answer but Vesemir beat him to it. "This is Jaskier the _bard_. He will be wintering with us this year."

Clicking his mouth shut again Jaskier frowned. Why did every Witcher in the keep decide to talk over him as if he weren't there? He hadn't even _gone_ invisible yet, damn it!

Piercing amber eyes squinted at him. "Fuck you're Geralts songbird? I couldn't get that fucking coin song out of my head for months! Fucking jingle haunts me through every town like a damn curse. I swear Geralt if he sings just once this winter I will go berserk and strangle him."

"Fuck off Lambert." Geralt growled.

"Can't you wait for even a second before jumping at each others throats?" Vesemir sighed, shoving Jaskier forward towards the cart. "Go help Geralt unload, boy. You two inside."

Lambert threw a nasty smirk at him as he went by and Jaskier gave him one of his sunny smiles in return. He directed the same one at Eskel, who only nodded at him briefly, expression shut off. At least he hugged Geralt hello.

Huh, cold and reserved and hot and prickly. He had his work cut out for him.

"Let them settle first." Geralts low rumble brought him back to the task at hand. "A few days, maybe."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to start harrassing them in their own home when they just got here. That would be rude. I'll let them have a few moments of piece and quiet, make them drop their guard and _then_ I'll strike!"

Geralt snorted "I doubt the piece and quiet part." he said and threw a sack of grain at Jaskier to keep him from starting a complaint. The "Ooof!" that resounded through the courtyard was very satisfying indeed.

~~~

In Jaskiers defense, Lambert started it. He had been a downright ass from the moment he had caught Jaskiers gaze, snarling and posturing like a prideful cat. And really Jaskier had expected that at least. Geralt had been very strong in his opinions about the youngest Witcher, although a small degree of fondness had laced the White Wolfs harsh words. Heck, Geralt had been worse the first few months when Jaskier had barely started following him around. Lambert was just testing out boundaries. Jaskier could read people well, it was an important skill in his profession. And the youngest Witcher was testing him. He was wary, probably rightfully so. And most likely a bit jealous, too. Jaskier didn't know who Aiden was, but Lambert seemed to miss him.

So Jaskier bore the sharp barbs and too harsh slaps on the back with stubborn dignity, answering each quip with his own brand of hidden insults within flowery words. He even gracefully dodged the bits of bread Lambert threw at him that day after dinner, when he had decided to get out the lute and provide them with a bit of music. People had thrown way worse things at him in the beginning. At least no tankards were flying towards him yet.

"Does your bard ever shut up?" Lambert snarled when his bread was gone, crumbs lying all around Jaskier.

"Sometimes."

The quip had been supposed to be lighthearted, something said to rile up Lambert. Logically, Jaskier _knew_ that. Yet only his years of expertise prevented him from slipping up on the chord progression he was currently working through. The still hurting, dark part of his consciousness, that had emerged after the dragon hunt kicking into gear. Did he overdo it with the noise already? He hadn't been very chatty the last week, right? They had been too caught up in training, Jaskier had to be silent there. Was that what Geralt meant?

_Did Geralt prefer Ghost after all?_

"Can't imagine it." Lamberts gruff voice pulled him out of the spiral of self doubt he had suddenly found himself drowning in.

"Shut up, Lambert."

"Tell that to your bard, asshole."

"Just let him sing. He's not hurting anyone." Eskel sighed. He had been sitting next to Geralt with a tankard of his own, watching the two play round after round of Gwent.

"He's hurting my eardrums."

Rude. They were all horribly rude. As if he wasn't singing his lungs out to entertain _them_! Ungrateful fuckers. But even this he had decided to let slide. These boys had grown up in a cold keep in the middle of nowhere with pointy sticks, smelly potions, pain and violence. It wasn't their fault they didn't understand the finer things in life, deprived of them as they had been all those decades.

The thing that made Jaskier swear bloody vengance was his missing lute the next morning. No one. Fucking no one touched his precious baby and got away with it. People could threaten his person, call him the worst names and question his nonexistant honour. But Jaskier drew the line at Filavandrels gift!

"Lambert!" his bellow was heard through the whole keep and three heads turned as one at Jaskiers stormy entrance.

"Good morning, little songbird." Lambert answered with a grin.

"Where the fuck is my lute?" Gods have mercy on this stupid Witcher if he had smashed it, Jaskier seethed.

"What? Can't keep track of your crap?"

"Lambert." Geralt growled.

Vesemir and Eskel kept eating their oatmeal, tactfully staying out of the conversation. Jaskier was both thankful and angry at them for not stepping in.

He marched through the hall and kept advancing, hopping onto the bank between Vesemir and Eskel, who narrowed their eyes at his dramatics, and up the table. His foot shoved the bowl of oatmeal in front of Lambert away so he could squat down there, grab the Witcher by his shirt and snarl in his face.

"Where did you put her?"

The wide eyed look he got for his little performance was satisfying but only for a second. Lamberts face easily shifted back into that little self satisfied smirk of his.

"Why don't you go looking for her? Might get to know the keep and build up some muscle while at it."

The growl that filled the room came from Jaskier himself. Not even a month in and he was picking up bad habits from the wolves. Fantastic. With an additional annoyed huff he let Lambert go, the bastard not having moved an inch despite Jaskier shoving him with a fair amount of force. He swiped up his breakfast in retaliation and jumped off the table, stomping out of the hall in search for his precious lute.

"Hey, that was my breakfast, asshole!"

"Go get a new one! Might keep you in shape!" Jaskier hollered back.

Jaskier was just outside the door and Eskel just loud enough for him to hear the "You're bards feral, Geralt."

Jaskiers lips twitched up at the proud "Hm." that followed that statement.

~~~

Despite finding the lute rather quickly on one of the higher shelves, perfectly intact and with the help of a nearby ladder in easy reach, Jaskier decided to not give Lambert even a day more of respite. The man wanted a prank war? He would get a prank war.

Jaskier started small if maybe a bit risky. He left the lute where it was for the moment using the search as an excuse to disappear for a bit. Invisible and with his heart stilled he shuffled back into the great hall at the perfect time. Vesemir was giving off orders, listing the repairs and other dozens of chores to be made. Lambert had to check the whole keep for mice and set traps, one of the worse tasks if the sour expression on the young Witchers face was anything to go by.

Jaskier smirked. Perfect. After a quick detour to the kitchen to get rid of the bowl Jaskier easily found Lambert again and followed. Checking that everyone else was out of earshot, he matched his footsteps with Lamberts and then upped the force of his steps just a smidge. The soft leather soles dampened a lot of sound, but now he was loud enough for a Witchers hearing to pick up on it.

The effect it had on Lambert was immediate. The man whirled around with a dagger drawn, brow furrowing when he saw nothing. Just like Geralt, Lamberts nostrils began flaring, scenting the air. Jaskier stood still. He should be downwind. And the heavy scent of food that was still wafting through the corridor so close to the kitchen should be enough to cloak his scent.

It shouldn't have mattered that much, anyway. Jaskier thought, trying to calm himself down. He had run around the whole keep for a week. The place smelled of him as much as of Geralt and Vesemir and the two other Witchers must have already noticed by now.

Luck was with him that day, for Lamberts confusion only seemed to grow.

"Geralt? Come to take revenge for your twink?"

It was Jaskiers turn to frown. Really? He was well capable of defending his own person thank you very much. Geralt had only ever stepped in when it got too violent for Jaskier to handle. His White Wolf might have been protective, but he wasn't a mother hen. Quite the opposite in fact. He had the blisters and bruises to account for that.

Jaskier hastily sidestepped Lambert as he prowled the hallway. Right, he had to keep his head in the game if he didn't want to be found out on his first day. That would have been disappointing.

Lambert circled the parameter a few more times before seemingly giving up and continuing with his task. As soon as he had his back turned Jaskier attached himself to his heels again, too quiet to hear at first, but gradually upping the volume on his footsteps until even non Witchers would have been able to hear them. He was being ignored, or at least Lambert was trying to ignore him. Jaskier saw the raised shoulders, noticed every minute twitch of his hands and the glances whenever Lambert knelt down to inspect a hole.

Eventually they came around to the library, where Lambert halted and shook his head. "Fucking pipsqueak where is that idiot searching? Thought the library was obvious."

_Pipsqueak?!_ He was a grown fucking man! What a prick. Still it was kinda sweet how thoughtful Lambert had been when planning the prank. It was still a horrible slight to his person, but now Jaskier knew that this hadn't been an act of malevolence. Gods his standards had plummeted far since he had met Geralt, if he thought not smashing his lute in jest was being _nice_.

~~~

By the time lunch was rolling around Lambert was so tense Jaskier wondered how he hadn't gotten cramps yet. He was constantly whipping around at inopportune moments and backtracking to spy around corners. And then, as though he could feel when Jaskier got distracted, Lambert dashed off and Jaskier had to run after him. It never turned into an outright chase, Jaskier wasn't stupid. No way was he able to catch up to a Witcher.

He trailed behind him at a more sedate pace, careful to not loose sight of him. As long as he could guess at the direction he went and found him again everything was alright. And Jaskier always found him again. Geralt had told him all about Lamberts favourite hiding places.

None of which Jaskier could reach, of course. Lambert was somehow able to climb walls like an insect, skittering along surfaces that looked flat to Jaskier, as if they were slathered with glue. All hiding places, however, were deadends. A huge oversight on Lamberts part. All Jaskier had to do was wait down below and tap his foot until Lambert either got annoyed or bored and jumped down again.

Suffice it to say that not much work got done when Vesemir bellowed through the keep that the food was ready.

Jaskier hung back as Lambert trudged back to the great hall to join the others. He stopped right outside leaning against one of the walls out of sight. Damn playing pranks on Lambert was hard business. Slowly kicking his heart and lungs back into gear he tilted his head to listen to the others.

"You look like shit." he heard Eskel observe.

"I feel like shit! Something has been following me, I swear."

"It's called a conscience." Geralt added, words dry as sandpaper.

"Fuck that! I'm serious. There were footsteps behind me wherever I went. But when I turned around there was nothing!"

Jaskier wished he could see what the others were doing. Lambert must be throwing a downright fit if the heavy thud of fists against wood was any indication. But he decided to wait a bit longer and hear the conversation out.

"I thought we agreed no alcohol until after dinner." Eskel again a hint of mirth in his bass rumble.

"Do I look fucking drunk to you!"

Alright it would only get more violent from here on out, Jaskier was sure. Taking a step forward and shedding his invisibility like a cloak he trudged into the great hall. Geralt and Vesemir both eyed him, Geralts lips twitching. Jaskier sent them both a shit eating grin, thankful that Eskel and Lambert were currently locked in a staring contest.

"Ah sweet nutrition!" he cheered only now noticing the huge pot of stew steaming in the middle of the table. It smelled divine, as though it had actual, real spices in it.

"Songbird, where the fuck have you been?" Lambert frowned at him.

"Got lost, but the smell of food brought me back here."

Jaskier knew he was giving Eskel and Lambert a terrible first impression, marking himself as incompetent. That was alright. It was better to be underestimated for now.

"I saw your lute in the library." Eskel told him helpfully. "I can show you after lunch."

"Thank you, that would be much appreciated."

"Don't baby him, he already has Geralt for that."

"I'm being what's called polite, Lambert. You should try it sometime."

"Pfff. You're boring."

"Eat your food and shut up." Vesemir grumbled, sliding up to make room for Jaskier and handing him his bowl. "Jaskier you come and help me wash up after Eskel gets your lute back for you."

Lambert scowled at him when he passed him on his way back to the kitchen, lute slung over his shoulder. Eskel had even gotten the instrument down for him and Jaskier vowed to give him at least a week more to rest before targeting him for anything as a way of thanks.

Jaskier graced Lambert with a nod before skipping to where Vesemir waited for him, not missing the suspicious narrow of yellow eyes.

"Does suspicion count as a win?" he asked as he hopped onto the counter and took the dry cloth and wet plate being shoved at him.

"The east wall could crumble down and Lambert would wonder if it had been you." Geralt rumbled, taking the dry plates, waiting for them to pile up before leaving to store them away.

"Geralt's right. Doesn't count."

"Anyway what was that about winning?"

"Ah, my dear Geralt! Ever the gambler~ I just thought, now that it's started-"

"And I told you to wait a few days."

"Sorry but have you _seen_ what he did to my _lute_? He had it coming." Jaskier swung his arms around in emphasis, nearly crashing the bowl he held into the counter. The quiet "Careful with the cutlery." muttered by Vesemir made him quickly draw his arms back in.

"Hm."

"Idiot probably thought he was being helpful." Vesemir intervened with an amused twitch of his lips. Yes, these two were definitely like father and son.

"How was that being helpful?"

"You'd get a chance to see the keep and get away from doing chores." And then as an afterthought. "And he would have gotten some quiet."

"That. That's the worst kind of logic I ever heard." Witchers, Jaskier thought, had none of them a clue how to communicate in a non-confusing, less convoluted way? It had taken Jaskier years to translate Geralts body language and various hums and grunts into something resembling understandable. Did he really have to start over again with these three?! Gods above and below he was getting too old for this.

"You said something about a bet." Geralt pressed, while Vesemir hummed in affirmation to Jaskiers statement.

"Ah yes, good memory as always. As I said I thought now that we started-"

"You started."

Jaskier glared at his best friend and got a smirk in return. Still the anger at being continously interrupted was only superficial. This had become one of the new things, they did now. It was another form of banter, with less chances of screwing up by saying the wrong thing. Geralts wit was legendary, but after everything a lot of his words still cut too deep when he wasn't careful.

"I started. Thank you mister obvious." Jaskier huffed "To cut things short: Why don't we start a betting pool to see who will find out first?"

"Sounds good to me. But no cheating." Vesemir glared at Geralt as he said that. "I say Eskel will notice first. I'm giving him two weeks.

"Lambert, he's more paranoid. A month."

Jaskier hummed in thought, he didn't know Eskel or Lambert well enough to really tell whom would be more observant. He did however have experience in the denseness of Witchers, having followed behind one, unseen, for months.

"I'd say two months and a half, undecided as to whom yet. I think it's fair if I hold off the name until I've pranked Eskel, too. As I couldn't get much of a read on either of them yet."

His two partners in crime nodded their assent.

"Perfect." Jaskier grinned "Now how much do you want to loose?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time writing this one, this being the first time I'm writing the other Witchers (in human form) and I always slipped back into describing instead of "show don't tell". I really, really like writing Lambert though. He's a lovable prick.


	4. Chapter 4

A week in and Lambert was starting to loose his mind. That and he had started to develope a serious dislike for Jaskier. Which was unfair, because as far as he knew Jaskier wasn't even doing anything.

"It's not you. It's his nerves." Geralt tried to sooth him. "Mostly."

They were cooped up in the library with a littany of books strewn around them. When Vesemir had first questioned Jaskier about the differences between a drowner and a drowned and Jaskier had just blinked at him in confusion the old wolf had been furious. Jaskier had never seen Geralt look so small and reprimanded as that evening where Vesemir tore him a new one. Apparently one doesn't let someone as reckless as Jaskier tag along for over twenty years without drilling some monster facts into his brain. Which... fair enough Jaskier was prone to get himself into trouble, but really he knew more than the average person and he at least knew which potion did what. He wasn't totally useless!

Still Vesemir had been determined and had told Geralt in no uncertain terms that Jaskier was to be taught monster facts by him. A new bullet point on Jaskiers ever growing list of daily tasks. Which just added to Jaskiers frustration with Lambert. He had never followed him around more than on that first day. Only ever for two to three hours at most. Sometimes, when Lambert had been an exceptional prick that day, he would throw snow at him. And sometimes, when he was really lucky, he even managed to hit the brute with it.

Jaskier slumped into Geralts shoulder with a huff and shoved one of the books with a very gross picture of the entrails of a ghoul away from him. It was late, he had been up all day helping to carry firewood to the various rooms (again), driving Lambert nuts and preparing lunch with Vesemir. His head was empty and he was really thinking about just skipping dinner and going straight to bed.

Of course Geralt wouldn't have any of it. With a gentle nudge he coaxed Jaskier to sit upright again and pulled another book closer for Jaskier to read.

"Come on we haven't even really started yet."

Jaskier flopped down with a groan at the statement. "Don't remind me."

"I thought you liked reading."

Damn it Geralt was enjoying this far too much. Why had he ever agreed to go to Kaer Morhen with him? Oh right, because he couldn't have gone anywhere else. Jaskier had thought he had made peace with that fact. Had been happy about it for a bit, after Geralt had accepted him back with open arms. But it was times like these that the lack of freedom irked him.

"There's a difference between reading for fun and reading because you have to. And most of your books are gross."

Geralt shrugged, lowering himself down beside him to join him in staring at the ceiling. "Most monsters are gross."

"Hm..."

A gentle quiet settled over them like a fluffy blanket. Slowly Jaskiers eyelids grew heavy. He blinked a few times, trying to stay awake. But Geralt didn't make any move to continue the lesson so maybe it was safe to doze a little-

"Geralt! Where's my-"

Twin groans followed by a nearly synchronously muttered "Lambert" accompanied the hasty entrance of the youngest Witcher.

"What the fuck are you two doing?"

Lambert strode over to them and toed the book nearest to him with a heavy frown. "Seriously Geralt? You teaching the twink secret Witcher knowledge now?"

"Vesemir forced me to."

The puzzled expression that overtook Lamberst features could have almost been called cute, if it hadn't been Lambert.

" _Why?_ "

"Fuck if I know." Jaskier decided to add to the conversation. He was seriously getting tired of being talked over. Or maybe that was the general exhaustion that had made a home in his body since he had reached Kaer Morhen. Fuck, he wanted to take a nap so bad. Preferably for a few days.

Boots appeared in his perpheral vision and soon Lamberts scowling mug was inches away from him. "Doesn't look like studying to me right now." Lambert mused, emphasizing his words with some rough pokes to Jaskiers cheek.

Jaskier swatted at him halfheartedly. "It's called taking a break. You know, so my brain can digest the new knowledge Geralt drilled into me."

"Sounds like bullshit to me."

"Well you can-"

"What did you want Lambert." Geralt sighed, interrupting the argument.

Lambert stopped his poking for a second to eye Geralt. "Have you taken my dagger?"

"Why would I?"

"Because it's fucking gone and I've had it on my person all day long!"

Jaskier grimaced at the spit that hit him as Lambert snarled. With a great effort he lifted his arm and wiped at his face. Witchers. Had no manners at all.

"Maybe it was the ghost that's been following you." Geralt goaded him with a smirk.

"Fuck you! I'll find out what's going on around here, just you see! And then I'll be the one to laugh last!"

"Don't shout in my ear like that..." Jaskier moaned and got a kick to his side for his bitching.

He sat up to rub at his probably already bruising flank as Lambert stomped back out, cursing up a storm. A hand halted his movements, lifting the doublet and chemise to look at the damage.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. He was surprisingly gentle. Guess he still remembers that I'm a fragile human, who's easy to break."

"Hm."

Fingers briefly skimmed over the taut skin and made Jaskier shiver at the trail of heat that they left behind. " _Do_ you have the dagger?" Geralt finally asked after Lambert must have gone out of earshot.

"Of course I do." Jaskier grinned and fished out the pretty silver weapon from a well hidden pocket on his person.

"Impressive. You do know Lambert will tear you to pieces if he finds that on you."

"Yes, yes. Don't worry you party pooper. I'll slide it back where I found it-"

"Stole."

" _Found_ , borrowed at the _most_. I'll give it back tonight at any rate. Just wanted to give him a bit of his own medicine."

"Hmmm. Good boy."

"Geralt! I'm not a dog!"

~~~

Jaskier had a bad feeling, slipping into the room behind Lambert. Enclosed spaces still gave him the creeps in this state, the danger of being cornered worming itself to the forefront of his mind. It was also a terrible breach of privacy that Jaskier did feel relatively guilty about.

He tugged himself to the wall next to the window and traced Lamberts movements with occasional sideway glances. He had made sure to stay especially quiet while following Lambert around this time and had cloaked his own scent with other, more neutral and natural ones. So far Lambert hadn't made any indication that he had noticed him. But that didn't mean that he hadn't.

The whole scenario reminded him a bit too much of recent events involving a twitchy white haired Witcher. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

This was a bad idea, Jaskier thought as panic rose within him. Lambert had taken off his armour, sure, but only to quickly rub himself down with some water heated with igni. He got dressed again right after and settled in front of the hearth to meditate, facing the middle of the room.

Fuck. This was bad. This was horrible. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to give the dagger back this way? Now he was stuck in a room with a very much awake, prickly and downright twitchy Witcher with no way to get back out unnoticed. Jaskier may have been an optimist, but he was no fool. He had already been dead on his feet before dinner had even rolled around. He was bone tired now, no way would he be able to outrun Lambert should he give chase, which he definitely would.

That is if Jaskier even made it out of the room. Lambert had situated himself in a way that he faced the middle of the room. Behind him the fireplace crackled and in front of him was only a small space left between himself and the bed. Jaskier could try to sneak behind him, but the danger of accidently being shoved into the fire was too much of a risk. And if he wanted to walk by in front of Lambert the chance of him noticing the displacement of air and grabbing him were very high.

Which meant his only real options were sleeping here or jumping out the window. Given that there was a drop of several feet that would very much at least break a few of his bones if not outright kill him, sleeping in the room with Lambert was the only true option left.

And that one didn't look especially rosy either. He knew he wouldn't become visible should he fall asleep. But he wouldn't have any control over the noises he made anymore. Geralt especially had informed him on various occasions how load his snoring could get. Which was unfair given that the man snorted like a boar in his sleep.

Jaskier forced himself to be still and not fidget with nerves. It was going to be fine. He just had to wait it out. This wasn't the first time he had pulled an allnighter. He had done this a lot at the start of his questionable carreer as Ghost. He could do this. Just stay silent virgil until Lambert stood up at the asscrack of dawn to spread his usual prickliness through the keep. Easy.

Thankfully he didn't need to do that. Lambert, it seemed, was not the type to meditate the whole night. The moon hung high when he began to shift, a crease forming on his forehead before catlike eyes snapped open.

Lambert rose not much more than a shadow in the pale light, yellow eyes glinting dangerously in the darkness. Jaskier cheered inwardly when he heard buckles being opened and heavy leather thunking to the floor. After what felt like an eternity Lambert finally collapsed into his bed, not bothering to get under the blanket, rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

Jaskier counted the blinks and listened intently for Lamberts breathing and even when the Witcher had closed his eyes and he seemed for all the world to be asleep Jaskier still didn't move. He waited, making triple sure Lambert was really under, before carefully shuffling towards the discarded armour.

His eyes had adjusted well to the dark, so he made quick work of locating the right scabbard and sheathing the dagger back into its rightful place.

He was taking a cautious step towards the door when he heard it. A small, heartbreaking small sound from the bed. Immediately Jaskier knew what was going on. Geralt had made those sounds all the time when he had eventually started to trust Jaskier enough to sleep in his presence.

Nightmares. Jaskiers face fell at the realization. Of course Lambert would have them, too. The Path was anything but kind. Only with him Jaskier couldn't just walk over to sooth him with a gentle lullaby, couldn't put a hand comfortingly on his shoulder or stroke through his hair.

He knew what he could do, though. Quietly he opened the door and slipped out of the room. Once he was outside he pulled the wood towards him and began to run. The loud _Bang_ as wood met stone echoed through the corridor like a starting shot.

"Fucking Ghost!"

Jaskier let himself sigh as he picked up his pace, loud footsteps accompanied by even loader cursing following in his wake.

Oh boy was this going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to sprinkle some Geralt and Jaskier interaction into this again. The following chapters might still be a bit heavy on the interaction between Jaskier and the other Witchers, though.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments again! I'm sorry I'm always really behind on answering them.  
> And sometimes my brain is just too empty to come up with a good reply. But I read and love all of them!

Jaskier slept straight through breakfast and lunch, only waking when Geralt came into his room with a bowl of stew.

"Nearly got you there, huh?"

Taking the bowl with a greatful little nod Jaskier let out a huge yawn before answering. "I think I'm going to lay off him for a while."

"Because he nearly got you last night."

"No." he shovelled down some spoon fulls of meat and potato "I think I made it worse with my pranks. He was already pretty highstrung when he got here and I just added to his stress. It's no wonder he's an ass because-"

"You caught him having a nightmare didn't you?"

"He has them a lot then I gather?" _Like all of you_.

"We all have them. The Path isn't kind. Neither were the trails. Or most of our childhoods."

"I will never get over how sad your lifes are..."

The nonchalant shrug he got just broke his heart further. "We're Witchers."

There. As if that explained, no _excused_ everything. Jaskier wanted to scream at him that it didn't make anything okay. That it was unfair and that he would fight tooth and nail to make it _better_.

Geralt nudged him in comfort. The first few attempts at showing affection from Geralts side had been quite disastrous. Usually they ended up with Jaskier landing on his butt or sprouting bruises. Now Geralt had become much better in knowing how much force he could put into a given movement. This time Jaskier was only jostled enough that the bowl would have spilled over had it still been full.

"You'll be focussing on Eskel in the meantime?"

"Yeah." Jaskier heaved himself out of the bed with a groan. Fuck his feet and legs were sore and his eyes didn't really want to stay open.

"Anything planned?" Geralt frowned at him and came to stand close, even going so far as to hand him the clothes he needed at the moment. Layer upon layer Jaskier pulled on. Winter had set in for real the last few days and the fortress was cold were no fire burned.

"Not yet. I haven't gotten a good read on Eskel yet. He seems reserved, but nice, though. I don't want to freak him out as much as I did Lambert."

"Hm. We'll talk to Vesemir about it. And I can tell you some things about his habits."

Jaskier managed a tired smile and squeezed Geralts arm in thanks, trying not to notice how Geralt seemed to lean into his touch.

They found Vesemir in the kitchen, a stag gutted and skinned on the table and in the process of being cut up. He listened patiently to Jaskiers reasoning, gave an approving nod and then send him out into the courtyard to help Eskel with the animals.

He found Eskel in the stables, lovingly rubbing down Scorpions flank. Jaskier stole a moment to take the other man in. He might have appeared to be the polar opposite of Geralt appearance wise, but at heart they seemed to be quite similar. Eskel, too, spoke to his horse in hushed tones. Even though the small, content smile vanished as soon as he noticed Jaskier.

"You are quiet for a bard."

"You'd be the first one to say that. Vesemir send me to help you with the animals."

"You can brush down Roach and Horse while I muck out the stables."

"Consider it done."

Jaskier managed to stay silent until he had guided the mares out of their boxes before curiousity got the better of him.

"Horse?"

"Lambert isn't very creative. And I wish he would change his underwear as much as he'd change his horses."

"You all seem to have very strong opinions about Lambert." Jaskier snickered, expertly dodging the mandatory bite of affection from Roach.

"We all love him dearly, but he's still an asshole."

Caught between laughing and gaping Jaskier decided to focus on getting Roach clean and smuggle a few sugar cubes to her, which she happily gobbled up. His surprise didn't stop him from continuing the conversation however. It was petty small talk, a sure fire way for Jaskier to get a read on a person and hopefully a good method to get Eskel to relax around him.

Geralts brother in arms was polite enough and he even replied with more than monosyllables, devoid of any degratory terms. But he was also carefully keeping his distance, deflecting more personal topics and continuously throwing Jaskier assessing glances. As if the bard was a particularly hard puzzle to solve. Or a new threat to be judged.

Being a polite person with manners also seemed to include not asking any personal questions himself, so Jaskier took the liberty to talk – at length – about his past and his many adventures, with and without Geralt. Alternating between talking to Eskel and heaping affectionate words upon the animals they were tending to.

They had completed their work in the stables, had fed the chickens and were now standing amidst a bunch of particularly ranchy goats, when Eskel finally interrupted him.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Eskel had sat down crosslegged and was holding a white goat in his lap, lovingly stroking over her horns. But his attention was solely focussed on Jaskier, who had been about to fill up their water supply.

"How else would you get to know me?"

"Huh, and here I thought you only liked to hear yourself talk."

Ouch, that hurt. Guess it was not only Geralts comments he had become sensitive towards. Eskel must have seen something in his stance or face – Jaskier emoted pretty loudly – because he tilted his head with a small frown.

"Apologies."

"It's fine."

"You smell of hurt, though."

"You can smell that?!"

"Yes and the stench nearly trippled just now."

"Sorry."

Eskel patted the space next to him and Jaskier greatfully sank down. He meant to pull his knees up, but as soon as his butt hit the frozen ground two of the goats came over to sniff at him.

"Don't be. I could have been more considerate."

"No, no you couldn't have known. I'm a bard after all, I tended to have more thick skin than that. It's just... I guess this particular topic is a bit of a raw wound these days."

Eskel nodded. "Geralt did something, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Something big if the way you smell is any indicator. And yet you still followed him here."

Ah, there it was. The topic they had both been dancing around. Jaskier would have liked to coax Eskel into opening up in an other way, but this was fine, too.

"I'm not someone who leaves his friends for a simple misstep. Geralt has been my best friend for over twenty years now. I _know_ him. I know that he tends to bottle up his emotions until they explode out of him. I know that he pushes people away when he feels insecure. I know that he's a brave, kind and lovable man underneath all the snark and frowns and grunts. And he apologized. He's trying to get better. There's no reason I can think of that would prevent me from following him to the end of the world. And heck this is his _home_! I've been wanting to meet all of you for ages! I couldn't very well refuse the offer."

They were both quiet after that. Eskel contemplating what Jaskier had just told him and Jaskier giving him time to think. Eventually the silence grew too oppressing, though. As it always did when Jaskier was visible. So of course he had to break it with the first thing that came to his mind.

"That goat sure loves you."

He was surprised when that actually got him a smile.

"That's Lil Bleater. I got her from the Law of Surprise. Bought a few more goats last winter so she wouldn't be alone."

"Law of Surprise? Huh, Geralt told me he was taught to never invoke that one. Of course the one time he broke that he- Wait did he tell you that? Nevermind if not. It's not my tale to tell."

"Awww but that's a story I would have loved to hear. But, yes, the Law of Surprise can be a... fickle thing." A shadow swept over Eskels face and fingers came up to trace the scars on his face. Jaskier burned to know what had caused this soft bear of a man so much grief. "Anyway, don't tell Vesemir but I quite enjoy invoking the Law of Surprise. Call it a way to spice things up a bit, but it has gotten me some pretty cool things in the past. Like Lil Bleater, or Scorpion. I actually have a whole estate in Velen because of it."

"Holy shit really?! That's awesome! And don't worry my lips are sealed."

Jaskier was grinning from ear to ear when he stood back up to finish his tasks together with Eskel. Something had clicked between them. Jaskier still knew that it wasn't enough to get Eskel to trust him, but it was a huge step forward.

~~~

Geralt had been on edge since Vesemir had sent Jaskier off to work with Eskel. The panic that bubbled up whenever he lost sight of the bard wasn't new. He had developed a worrying tendency to freak out whenever Jaskier turned invisible and went off to do his thing. It was stupid and unproductive and so Geralt dealt with the unwanted emotion like he always did: He bottled it up and threw it into the darkest pit of his mind.

This one was a new worry, though. He knew exactly where Jaskier was and he had a good view of him from one of the windows higher up in the keep. The thing was that Jaskier had been specifically partnered with him or Vesemir since his brothers had returned home. And Geralt believed for a good reason. Lambert and Jaskier would have been at each other throats in seconds. And Eskel...

Geralt really couldn't get a good read on Eskel. His brother had been wary of humans ever since the whole debacle with Deidre. And he had voiced his concern about Geralt letting a bard of all things tag along for so long.

He didn't think Eskel would harm Jaskier, per se. His brother might have been protective but he avoided violence when possible. He was more afraid of the cold shoulder Jaskier would be sure to receive. Geralt knew that his friend dealt poorly with emotional distance. Mostly he tended to press on and on and push until you either snapped or resigned yourself to your fate.

Geralt had done the latter until he had done the former and fucked everything up. He prayed to every deity that Eskel would be more patient and gentle.

Of course he needn't have worried. Geralt only saw Jaskier tense once while they were dallying around in the goat pen. But Eskel seemed to backtrack fast and after that everything seemed... lighter.

Damn Geralt wished he could hear what they were talking about. Whatever it was it made his friend grin in a way he hadn't in a while.

Actually, now that he thought about it Jaskier had been more subdued since they had gotten back together. He was still loud and talked a lot, of course. More so than ever before, in fact. And yet... His smiles had dimmed, his laughter tapered off too fast. And since they had come to Kaer Morhen it had only worsened.

Was he already regretting his choices? Geralt frowned as he watched the two people, who were probably closest to him, interact. Jaskier seemed to be more relaxed in Eskels presence already than he was in Geralts.

"You know your jealousy is unwarranted, yes?"

Had his training been any less strict Geralt would have flinched at Vesemirs sudden appearance at his side. Fuck he'd been so focussed on Jaskier and Eskel that he hadn't noticed his mentor coming up. He couldn't wait for training to start up again. He definitely needed to brush up on some things.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"And I'm 20 and actually a fairy. I've raised you, I know that look on your face. You're worried your bard might find Eskel more to his liking."

"Pretty specific face I'm making then."

"Geralt."

Geralt squared his shoulders at the commanding tone Vesemir had used. Fuck. This was the one that meant no further sass would be tolerated. He knew that one intimately from his childhood.

He blew out the air from his lungs to buy himself just a bit more time of silence. And then clamped his mouth shut, because he would not be the one to continue this conversation. It was ridiculous anyway. He wasn't jealous. He just wanted Jaskier back at his side so he could make sure that he's alright and not about to disappear into thin air again.

The quiet stretched on between them as they watched Jaskier and Eskel pretty much do nothing else than waste time and freeze their arses off. Jaskier seemed to be well into a tale, walking up and down with two goats at his heels, swinging his arms and hands around as he talked. Eskel still sat with Lil Bleater in his lap and while he didn't exactly smile he was more relaxed around the human than ever before.

Geralt hoped they would become friends. He really did. They would be good for each other. Eskel loved poetry and romance. After Jaskier inevitably wormed his way through Eskels defenses they would have so much fun together.

He had to remind himself that this was good. That it was what he wanted. Jaskier deserved to be happy, especially after all the shit he had went through with Geralt. Yes, he would spent less time with Geralt. Which meant less time for him to make Jaskier understand that he was willing to back up his apology with necessary change. Less time to listen to the overexcited man prattle, less time spent seeing him. And he was already seeing him less and less as the pranks went on.

Not that he regretted setting Jaskier loose on his brothers. Lamberts reactions were hilarious and he loved being surprised by what Jaskier was coming up with. Still he felt a little left out with the whole planning and Jaskier was spending so much more time with his brothers now-

Oh...

Oh.

Maybe Vesemir was right. Almost. Geralt didn't feel jealous as much as he felt guilty. Okay, yes he also felt a little insecure about the whole spending less time with his best friend thing. But mostly it was guilt for not being enough to make the man happy after having caused him so much grief.

...Maybe it was safest to say that he felt guilty first and jealous second.

Satisfied with that conclusion his brain caught onto what Vesemir had said in the beginning of their conversation. "Why is it unwarranted?"

"Because the boy is bound to you. Even if he prefered Eskel or gods forbid Lambert, he couldn't leave your side."

Vesemir patted Geralts shoulder as he left. "Be calm. You can't be rid of him now."

The howling wind was Geralts only companion after that. Leaving a gracious audience of none to witness the brief freak out episode Vesemirs words had initiated.

Right. Jaskier had bound himself to him. Couldn't go anywhere without him. Oh, no. This wasn't making it better. This made everything so much _worse_.

Right guilt definitely won this round. Guilt and anger. Because what the fuck had this loud, obnoxious, warm and gentle bard thought, binding himself to a man like Geralt?!

He looked down at the two talking men and suddenly saw everything in a completely different light, old worries from the start creeping back in to close the vicious circle. What if Eskel didn't open up? What if Lambert kept being aggressive?

He played over everything that had happened since they had arrived at the Witcher keep. The constant judgement, the rude remarks, the thrown breadcrumps and hidden lute. Jaskiers exhaustion and the way he always shivered whenever he had to leave a room with a hearth. The dimming smiles and the faded light in his usually bright blue eyes.

Fuck.

_What if Jaskier hated it here?_

The question took root and wouldn't leave his mind again. He pondered over it as he left his little viewing point and took up some reading in the library, sorting through the texts to find ones that Jaskier might be more willing to go through.

He thought hard about it during dinner, where he nearly couldn't dodge the spoon sent his way by Lambert. And it didn't leave him alone when he left again to take a bath and then to wait for Jaskier in the library.

His frantic thoughts only settled somewhat when Jaskier finally pranced into the library, much later than they had agreed to meet and with a grin on his face that spelled trouble.

"What did you do?"

Jaskier plopped down beside him scooting a bit too close to the open fire for Geralts liking. "You'll see. So what are we learning today? The colour of a Forktails guts? Where to stick your sword in a Kikimora? How to not get swallowed by a selkiemore?"

Jaskier wiggled his eyebrows at that one and Geralt fondly rolled his eyes at his idiot friends antics.

"Types of wraiths and how to deal with them." he replied and shoved a huge book into Jaskiers hands. "Page 234, read until the next headline. You can ask questions after."

"And what are you going to do while I sit here and be studious?"

"Make sure you're actually reading."

"Ohh booo."

Geralt had to restrain himself from ruffling his friends hair. This man had perfected the baby pouty face in his humble opinion. And maybe Geralt was getting old and was developing old people tendencies, but he really wanted to pinch those hamster cheeks.

His good mood didn't stay long. As soon as Jaskier had properly settled down with the book in his lap and had started reading in earnest Geralt had nothing to distract himself from his mind anymore.

He tried to study Jaskier in what he hoped to be an unobstrusive way. Was he frowning because he was concentrating or because he was displeased with the situation? Had he always been this quiet when he was reading? Was he-

The scream could be heard through the whole keep. Geralt shot up and cursed when he grabbed at empty air. Right he had left his swords in his room. He would have- The hand that Jaskier raised made him halt.

"What. Did you. Do?" he bit out, but decided to sit back down when no further shouting came from the hallway. There was only the slamming of doors and... was that the pitter patter of naked feet on stone?

Jaskier concealed his grin behind his book. "You'll see."

Not a moment later the door to the library slammed open to reveal a very naked Eskel covered in slime and what appeared to be moondust. At least it was sparkling the same way.

"Geralt! Someone hexed my bath!"

Geralt slowly looked him up and down, taking in the dishevelled hair and the wide, panicked eyes. There was a thin film of reddish slime that glistened in the light of the fire. In it hundreds upon hundreds of sparkly dust particles clung to the contures of Eskels muscles. He smelled faintly of roses.

"I'd say whoever it was improved it."

"That!" Eskel pointed at him with what could have been a whine "Is not funny!"

"Why did you even step into a slime bath?" Jaskier asked, radiating pure innocence.

Becoming aware that they weren't alone Eskel seemed to remember his nudity and covered his bits with his hands. "Sorry."

Jaskier waved a hand. "Please you have nothing I haven't seen before." He raised an eyebrow with a smirk "Or have you?"

With a snort Eskel dropped the act of decency again to instead mess with his hair. The goo was starting to dry there, but instead of being crusty it just seemed to make the dark brown strands shiny and silky. "Should have expected something like that from a bard."

"Hey-"

"You should have expected something like that from _me_." Jaskier hummed, proud as ever, and Geralt relaxed. Fine if Jaskier wasn't offended Geralt didn't need to be either.

"Great. And to make it perfectly clear: I stepped into a normal one. And then I rested my eyes a bit and suddenly the consistency turned weird and- Who could have _done_ that?" Eskels voice sounded strangled. As if improving his bath was the worst betrayal he ever had to endure.

"Told ya we're being haunted! Also nice ass Eskel." Lambert hollered from the doorway and then sprinted away when Eskel growled and chased after him. "If it was you, you little rat!"

"Empty threats!"

Geralt could hear their bickering, but decided to tune them out, opting to look at Jaskier instead.

"Where did you get that?"

"Oh, in Oxenfurt. I had planned to use it on myself you know, it's supposed to make your skin real soft, accelerate normal healing properties and just overall feel really nice. But then Eskels skin is as dry as a meadow in the midst of summer. So I gave it to him instead."

"Was the moondust added in Oxenfurt, too?"

Now Jaskier looked a little sheepish. "No, that was a... ah spontanous adjustment. But come on he did look nice all glittery."

"Hm."

"Wait, moondust isn't poisonous right?!"

Geralt huffed a laugh at Jaskiers wide eyed look. He was tempted to say yes and watch him fret a bit... "No." He didn't have the heart to tease him like that, though.

Jaskier sagged against him and Geralt remembered that this was usually a clue to shift and put his arm around his friend to accomodate him better.

"Phew! That would have been horrible."

"Hm."

This was nice. Having Jaskier close, being able to take him in with all his senses, was nice. Geralt wanted to keep it that way, he suddenly realized. He had travelled with the shadow- no with the ghost of his best friend for months. He never wanted to go back to that again.

Only... Jaskier was miserable. Right? Looking down on him now, cuddled up to him and idly thumbing through the pages of the monster book, Geralt wasn't too sure anymore.

"Jaskier?"

"Hmmhm?" Another page turned. Another detailed picture, this time of a Leshen, Jaskier was ignoring the pages with the Wraiths on purpose. The smell of dust and old books, of fire and sweat. Jaskiers pulse was strong and steady, not a hint of fear or sadness.

"Geralt. As much as I enjoy this but why are you sniffing my hair?"

Unwilling to part from the comforting smell Geralt only pulled back a little, enough to look into sparkling blue eyes that peered up at him, not with disgust or fear, but with open curiousity.

"Was trying to see if you were sad."

"You could have just asked me that."

Jaskier laughed as Geralt pulled a grimace. The thought of talking alone made something hot clench in his stomach.

"I know, I know, you'd rather get kissed by a Ghoul."

"Ew no-"

"Buuut it's good for you. So out with it what's been eating you up?"

Yellow eyes glanced at the still open door and the muscles in his arms twitched. Jaskier was fast to put a hand on the one dangling over his shoulder effectively pinning him in place with a gentle squeeze.

Geralt chewed on the words he wanted to say for a while, glaring into empty space as he did. A million ways to go about this. A dozen answers he could give to that question. And no way to phrase it right.

"Do you hate it here?"

There. Simple. To the point. There was so much more behind that. But Geralt didn't know what exactly and he sure as hell couldn't voice it.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

Jaskier tried to pull away, probably to arrange himself in a way that would make them be able to look at each other while talking. Geralt would have none of that. He tightened his grip, caging in the bards throat and only noticed that he was being too rough when Jaskier made a choked noise.

He slipped his arm down instead, gripping at Jaskiers shoulder to keep him in place. No way was he going to have a conversation with eye contact. This was much better. Less intense. More relaxed.

"Answer the question." Geralt gritted out as Jaskier huffed in exasperation.

"I have no idea what could have possibly made you think that. I can assure you, though, I don't hate it here."

"But you don't like it here either."

Jaskier actually pondered that statement for a while. And as the seconds ticked by Geralt began to tense, bracing himself for the now all too familiar scent of dispair.

But it never came.

"Living here is certainly something else. I'm exhausted a lot and sometimes having to interact with the others is stressing me out, because I don't want to fuck this up. So really it's not unlike how we started out, right? Only no one can just disappear in the middle of the night, anymore."

They both had done that on occasion. Especially at the beginning when neither had been too attached to the other. Geralt whenever he had become too restless and couldn't help but move on, unable to scrape up the patience to wait for a sleeping bard. And Jaskier sometimes had to run from angry spouses or vengeful lords he had somehow insulted with one thing or another. Disappearing in the dead of the night and only reappearing months later.

The instances had lessened over the years. Both naturally gravitating towards each other, especially when danger was close.

Jaskier nudged his side a bit. "I'm happy most of the time Geralt. I won't lie and say that it isn't difficult sometimes. But I'm enjoying myself greatly and I'm honoured that you trust me enough to have invited me to winter here."

"Hm."

"Does that quell your worries, dear wolf?"

It didn't. Just because Jaskier was currently satisfied didn't mean that the strain wouldn't become too much eventually.

He didn't say anything, though. He had barely managed this conversation. He was tired. He couldn't handle anymore tonight. And anyway if he said anything more Jaskier might realize that he had truly landed himself in a miserable situation.

So he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vesemir was trying to be supportive I swear. He's just aweful at it.
> 
> Finally got to write some Eskel pranks. Weirdly enough I have more ideas for Eskel than for Lambert.  
> The slime bath has been inspired by a friends story, whose sister had accidently bought bath oil that turned out  
> to be bath slime with glitter in it. The kids loved it. The mother? Not so much XD
> 
> Btw. I have a tumblr now. Sooo uhhh you can come yell at me there? I guess? You can find me under seralyra.


	6. Chapter 6

Eskel was confused. Confused and maybe a little bit terrified. This winter was shaping up to be the strangest one he had ever had so far.

He had known there would be no peace in the keep this season when he first laid eyes on Geralts bard, of course. Strangers in the old Witcher fortress always brought trouble with them. The first time Coën had wintered with them it had taken weeks to get a kind of routine going that everyone was comfortable with. And the one time Aiden had been allowed into Kaer Morhen had been a fucking disaster. No matter what Lambert said to defend the Cat.

But this? This was the icing on the cake. Not only were they being haunted by some sort of mischievious spirit neither of them could identify, Geralt was also acting highly suspicious.  
He was, dare Eskel say, downright _tame_.

Eskel had never seen him like this before. Besotted, yes. Gentle, also yes. He was their brother after all and despite Lambert and Geralt driving him up the damn walls sometimes they did know how to show appreciation for each other when it mattered.

With the bard Geralt was different. It was like he was walking on eggshells while simultanously being drawn to the curious human like a moth to the flame. He was touchy and cuddly and he watched his mouth, which he had never done before. It was downright creepy.

After the whiff of despair he had caught on Jaskiers scent Geralts behaviour had made a bit more sense, but that didn't make it any easier to witness. Especially after Eskels afternoon with Jaskier.

While the human had developed the look of a man ready to drop dead on his feet, Geralt seemed to be vibrating with energy. And not the good kind either. Where he was cautious and meek with his bard he was more snappy and growly with him and Lambert than he had ever been before. He prowled the keep like a caged animal, he was more likely to pick a verbal fight, he was being downright insufferable.

Eskel blamed Jaskier. He didn't know what for yet, but it was obvious the bard had something to do with Geralts bad mood. He also couldn't decide whether this was all some kind of revenge scheme on the humans part, or just Geralts normal miserable way of dealing with relationships.

Fortunately for everyone having to live with the aggravated Witcher, training was starting up again, now that the worst of the repairs had been dealt with. _Unfortunately_ , Vesemir demanded Jaskier join them. And what was _worse_ was that he paired him with Eskel.

Eskel presumed that it was better than pairing the songbird with Lambert, because he was sure Jaskier wouldn't have survived a sparring match with him. But if the glare Geralt send his way was anything to go by, Vesemirs choice still freaked the White Wolf out.

He might have felt insulted, after all he _knew_ how to act around humans. Given how protective Geralt seemed over the bard he decided to let it slide, though and concentrated on making sure Jaskier didn't accidently poke his eye out with the sword.

They were using blunted weapons, but the way the bard held it made Eskel worry for his safety. So much for brushing up his own skills.

He had to babysit.

"No that's not how you hold the sword. Use both hands. Wider apart, you want to use the whole handle."

Jaskier was a horrible fighter and an infuriating student. He also had more dirty tricks up his sleeves than even Lambert. Eskel didn't know if he should be impressed or exasperated.

What he did know was that he got himself stupid drunk with Lambert at the next best opportunity. Maybe with enough alcohol he could forget about the shitshow this winter was turning out to be. And if he was especially lucky, maybe he could even cheat Lambert out of a few coins over some rounds of Gwent.

In hindsight he really should have known better than to drink alone with Lambert. Especially at the beginning of their stay. Lamberts first and last batch of moonshine was always far stronger than everything in between. Something to mellow them out or take the edge off. And with just the two of them they had downed nearly all of it in record time.

Eskel blamed Geralt for that one. Damn him being his usual dramatic broody self and not being there for their traditional bonding nights. With him to close their little triangle, there would have been less to drink and Eskel wouldn't have had to endure the horrible headache, that greeted him when he woke up in the morning.

For a moment he stared into space, tracing the stars that flickered up in his vision and took stock of his limbs. The memories of the night before were hazy. They had shouted at each other a lot and he was sure at one point they had started using their Gwent cards as throwing knifes. 

He wondered if he would get his deck whole again. Hopefully he could get to the great hall before Lambert. Wouldn't be beyond the bastard to nick some of Eskels prized cards while he was out.

His fingers twitched at the thought in a pathetic attempt of his body to get him going. The miniscule movement caused them to brush up on something.

Hm, soft and dry. And wrinkly...

Wait... That wasn't supposed to be on his bed!

Alarmed Eskel bolted upright, a move his head took revenge for by smattering his brain with a hammer. Oww. He would never drink again. Oh, who was he kidding of course he would. Damn, where was the Golden Oriole when you needed it.

The desired potion was actually perched on his bedside table, together with a tankard of water and some bits of fruit. This was not what caught Eskels attention first, though.

No.

What the fuck.

How out of it had he _been_?!

All around him lay petals and small, dried up blossoms of celandine, myrtle, wolfsbane and all sorts of other flowery potion ingredients. They littered every surface. And now that he was taking stock there were even some in his hair.

"Good morning sunshi- What the fuck?!"

Eskel winced at the volume of the yell and the additional bang of the door as Lambert barged into his room. Of course the bastard would be up and about. That man had an alcohol tolerance and recovery rate that was downright inhuman. Better Witcher metabolism be damned.

At least the shock of seeing Eskels room in this kind of state had made him be quiet, Eskel mused. Careful as to not jostle too many of the plant bits Eskel shifted to grab the vial and downed it in one go. Ahh. Sweet relief.

"Huh, so the ghost left you a little gift, too."

"What do you mean? Careful where you walk."

Lambert huffed at him but tiptoed through the room with a grace that definitely came from another school, avoiding stepping on even one petal. A pretty impressive feat given that the floor was covered by them. Maybe him hanging out with the Cats actually did him some good.

He plopped down beside Eskel after wiping some of the dried flowers away and snatched a grape from Eskels platter with a smirk, waving it in the air as he spoke before throwing it into his mouth.

"This here. Had a similar set up in my room. Sans the flowery stuff, though. Impressive that you didn't wake up during this." He gestured into the room and frowned. "Or maybe not. Miracle that you even got here, the state you were in yesterday."

Which meant that Lambert probably half carried him up before passing out in his own room. Eskel made a mental note to repay the favour sometime during the winter.

"Hm." Eskel slapped Lamberts hand away, preventing him from getting to the apple. He surveyed the scene around him as well. With his head clearing up it was easier to try and tackle the puzzle that was their resident ghost. "Maybe whatever it was made these just appear."

"Like a dryad or something? Nah, your medallion would've alerted you, I think. I mean it would now, right? If those were made with magic. It'll cling to them."

"True." Eskel broke the apple in his hands and gave Lambert a half. "I wonder about the potion, too. The ghost must know what potion does what for us."

"What's their deal anyway?" Lambert groaned, flopping on his back. "What's their end goal? Confuse us to death?"

Eskel shrugged and stood, he might have managed to crawl into his bed last night, but he had not gotten around to dressing down. Or Lambert had managed to throw him onto the bed and refused to strip him. Either way it turned out to be an advantage because now he could just stride out of the room without further ado.

"Hey! Where are you going, you bastard?!"

"Getting pots from the kitchen. Start collecting."

"You really wanna keep them?"

"They're useful. Not gonna waste them."

~~~

The days only got weirder after that. He and Lambert had taken to sleeping and meditating in shifts after the drunken incident. Where Eskel had first thought that Lambert was fucking with him, two pranks in he was starting to believe him about the hauntings.

Maybe it was because of their added caution that the ghost had stopped bothering them during the night. Which was a blessing and a curse. Because now they had to be on their toes during the day time more so than ever before.

It seemed that whoever was fucking with them really didn't like their attitude towards alcohol. Geralt had started joining them again after training had mellowed him out a bit and had promptly regretted not checking his tankard. A sniff afterwards, when the hacking and panting on Geralts side and the howling laughter on Eskels and Lamberts had been over, told them that someone had dumped pepper in his drink.

Two nights later, they had wanted to flush away a very shitty day of running the walls only to find that all their alcohol had been replaced by tea. Thankfully the change hadn't lasted forever and mission drinking away your sorrows had been able to progress swimmingly once the White Gull and moonshine had been returned to them.

During all this Eskel and Lambert didn't get even an inch closer to whom or what could be following them. At first they thought Geralt was pranking them in some way, but stuff was happening to him too. There was that pepper incident for one. And another time he had woken up with his hair tied up in dozens of little braids.

And then there was that one memorable occasion where someone had taken all of the stuff Geralt hoarded in his room and had dumped it in front of his door in a huge pile of junk. Eskel and Lambert had been impressed by how much their brother had accumulated over the course of his life on the Path. None of which seemed even vaguely useful. Shiny bits of absolutely worthless metal, piles upon piles of dirty cloth, rusty swords and daggers, books that were so faded you could barely make out the colour of their covers. Little trinkets and curiousities that must have littered Geralts room for decades.

So no, Geralt couldn't be the one messing with them. And anyway they _heard_ the ghost sometimes. Its footsteps echoed through the halls occasionally, sometimes they followed Eskel or Lambert during the day. Neither of them had been able to shake them.

It was weird. Weird, but... if Eskel was being honest, also quite entertaining. At this point during most winters either Lambert and Geralt or Lambert and Eskel would have been at each others throats by now. Fighting over one thing or another. There hadn't been one brawl yet. Small fights and quips and sometimes objects thrown at each other, but no outright fight. Everyone had been too wrapped up in their own stuff to really get on each others nerves.

Geralt was busy tiptoeing around his bard. Jaskier did bard things. Probably. They didn't seek him out and after the first night where Lambert had thrown bread crumbs at him he had never joined them again.

And well Eskel and Lambert were too busy solving the mystery of their resident ghost anyway. It was fun, in a way. Eskel had never spend so much time with Lambert before. It was thrilling to hunt together. And after about a month into their little hide and seek game Eskel even stopped worrying about the pranks. They were harmless things after all and more often than not caused more good than harm.

That didn't mean that curiousity didn't eat him up from the inside out. Both of them were deadset on capturing their ghost.

~~~

"That wasn't a parry, Jaskier." Eskel deadpanned, wishing not for the first time to be partnered up with Lambert, Geralt or heck even Vesemir for once.

Jaskier spun his sword – they had given him a wooden one after he had accidently stabbed his foot a bit – in an arc that made Eskel flinch with barely contained worry. Thankfully the idiot didn't hit himself. Again.

"It looked cool, though."

"Looking cool won't save you from being skewered. Let's go through it again. Be _serious_ this time."

Jaskier pouted at him and dropped back into a defensive stance with far too wide movements and overly exaggerated gestures. Eskel wasn't sure why he even bothered anymore. The bard clearly didn't want to learn anything to do with sword fighting. It was just a waste of time for the both of them.

Training had always been a time to relax for Eskel. After the grueling trials and the horrifying experiences on the Path, going through easy drills while engaging in light hearted banter with his brothers was a welcome change. Being robbed of the experience made him moody. And Jaskier didn't fare any better. His obvious dislike for the art of fighting made him cranky. His passive aggressive attitude was slowly fraying Eskels nerves and one of these days he was sure he would break and just... he didn't know. Use Axii on the moron. Damn the consequences.

He barely held back a groan of relief when Vesemir decided to end the session and let them disperse. Jaskier was off like a shooting star, Geralt hesitating a moment before trailing behind him.  
A clang made him avert his gaze from Geralts retreating back. There lay a sword. A real, metal one, in front of him.

Lambert gave him a feral grin and a shrug. "At this rate you'll get rusty. Can't have that."

Eskel bend down and retrieved his weapon unable to contain his own smile. "Tired of Geralt beating your ass all the time?"

"Pfff. Please I win just as many rounds."

"Hmhm. Denial doesn't suit you. Jaskier isn't an opponent that needs a lot of attention, you know. I could see all your fights."

"Fuck you, you'll have to get your eyes checked then."

"Of course. All out fight, everything allowed?"

"Heck yeah, let's make this interesting."

Eskel stomped down the hallway leading to the hot springs hours later, muscles pleasantly sore, fingertips still tingling with magic and mind clear. His hair was still dripping wet and maybe starting to freeze a little already, but he still felt warm enough. He had taken a bath before deciding to soak in the keeps hot springs. They were designed for pleasure, not to get clean.

He had hoped to have them for himself, like he usually did. Since the massacre there weren't many contenders for the hot springs and it was more likely to find them empty than not. Alas he wasn't as lucky this time around.

When he opened the door and the gush of damp, heated air made his head spin he found his vision at once assaulted by a rather lovely butt. One belonging to none other than Jaskier.

The man had not yet noticed him. He had clearly just arrived himself, currently preoccupied with stripping down, his back turned to Eskel. And Eskel didn't mean to be a creep, but he was curious, especially after his eyes caught onto a scar.

And then another. And another.

Jaskiers body was littered with them. Not as much as a Witchers hide was, but still. It was a frightingly high number for a bard, even a travelling one. Even for one following a Witcher. Maybe especially for one following a Witcher.

The scary thing was that Eskel could recognize some of the shapes. There were knife wounds, of course. Those were probably natural. But there was also one that looked like it had been made by a Forktail claw. A bitemark that screamed Warg. Small dots that could only have come from Archespore projectiles.

"Eskel! Oh hi there. Sorry didn't hear you coming in."

Eskels eyes snapped back up to look at Jaskiers face. Despite being caught with his cock hanging out he had an easy smile on his lips as he slipped into the water, waving him over.

"Come in already or do you want to let all the cold air in?"

"It's fine. I can come back another time."

"Don't be ridiculous. I could hear you and Lambert fighting. If you don't get to relax your muscles a bit you'll surely get cramps later. I wouldn't mind the company either."

"... alright." Huh, it hadn't occured to Eskel before, but Jaskier must be feeling quite lonely up in these mountains. He was a bard after all, used to a lot more people and interaction.

He tried to gauge Jaskiers mood while he stripped. Eyes swept over the bards body again with quick, unassuming glances, looking for signs of tension. And he sniffed at the air when his back was turned, hoping to dismantle the scent coming from Jaskier.

When he finally sank down into the gloriously hot waters Eskel hadn't found anything resembling distress. Jaskier was fine. Or as fine as a man caged in with four Witchers in the middle of nowhere during the coldest season of the year could be.

"You know I don't mind, but I thought you should be made aware of the fact that you're staring."

"I am. Aware, that is. You've just caught me by surprise is all."

"I surprised you? You mean with how lovely my body is? I feel flattered."

"No. I just wasn't expecting- I didn't think you'd have so many scars..."

The laugh that bubbled out of Jaskier was unexpected, too and so was the soft, fond smile sent his way. "Of course that's what you would notice first. Witchers."

Something warm coiled around Eskels heart. _Witchers_. As long as he had wandered the Path Eskel had only ever heard his profession spat back at him with disgust and fear. But Jaskier said it like an endearment. There was so much _love_ in there that Eskel couldn't find it in himself to get mad. The warm blanket was soon followed by a stab of guilt. He and Lambert had called Jaskier "bard" so many times by now and it had always sounded like a degeneratory term.

Maybe they had been too hard on him. Eskel doubted Jaskier was harmless, but maybe, just maybe he wasn't a threat to them.

"I _have_ been tagging along Geralt for over twenty years." Jaskiers gentle voice coaxed him out of his head. "Incidents happen." He paused for a moment, his secretive smile turning sheepish. "And well I _might_ have a tendency to get a bit too close to the action. Or get myself in trouble. And on very rare occasions get Geralt out of trouble. I don't mind them though. All my scars have stories, funny ones, tragic ones, exciting ones, you name it. And I've noticed my partners are always quite intrigued by them."

Jaskier waggled his eyebrows at him, but Eskel could only stare and swallow down the thick ball of _something_ that had grown in his throat. Twenty years. For a human that was a lot. Eskel doubted even the best actor on the continent could fake a friendship for such a long time. And at such a high cost. Some of those scars looked deep, life threatening even.  
No revenge scheme then. Definitely not a revenge scheme. Damn now he had to be angry at Geralt. For what was still to be determined.

He let out a baffled laugh, which came out a little too late and was probably too loud and forced, pressing on. He was unwilling to settle into awkward silence after the relevation he just had.

"No wonder Vesemir wants you to learn how to fight. He always had a keen eye for those kinds of things."

He had seen Eskels loyality, Geralts soft heart and Lamberts fire. Of course the old wolf would have picked up on the larks devotion.

Jaskier grimaced and slid down further into the pool until he could blow bubbles into the water.

"Hey now, training can be fun. You're just making it much harder on yourself than you need." Eskel tried to cheer him up.

More bubbles rose and Eskel dared to swim over to ruffle the mans hair. He couldn't help it, it was a big brother instinct and Jaskier was acting like a child. 

"Believe me. Vesemir will get off your ass as soon as you learn the basics I'm sure. He just wants you to be able to defend yourself."

He accidently dunked Jaskier a bit as he talked. Oops. Eskel was about to apologize for using too much strength when he suddenly got a mouthful of hot water splashed into his face.

"Take that you fiend!" Jaskier giggled. Eskel saw right through him. Lambert and Geralt used similar tactics when they didn't want to talk about something. This time he was happy to let it slide.

The wave that hit Jaskier nearly swept him under and Eskel might have used a little bit of Aard for assistance.

"This is for your blatant show of disrespect." Eskel countered with a grin as the pool settled again, Jaskier wiping the wet strands out of his eyes. Eyes that had a dangerous glint to them.

"Cheater" he crooned.

"There are no rules in love or war."

The smirk that graced Jaskier face kicked Eskels flight or fight instinct into gear. "And a war it is."

Eskel was still trying to puzzle out why he suddenly felt intimidated by the frail human when Jaskier launched himself at him in a tackle that pulled him under and turned the short splashing fight into a full blown wrestling match.

So much for spending some time relaxing in the hot springs. He might have just made a new friend, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I have worked on my master thesis instead of writing this? Yes.  
> Did I? Obviously not.  
> I have no regrets.
> 
> Writing from Eskels POV for once was fun though (even if it's a bit of a mess timeskip wise). I wanted to have his and Lamberts view incorporated somehow in the fic, explain their side of the story a bit. I hope you guys enjoyed it, it'll be back to the usual routine by the next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

The room they were hiding in was hot and stuffy, still filled with the steam of the recently used tub. The air smelled faintly of lavender and even fainter of roses, the sweet scent enough to relax but not too much for one sensitive Witcher nose.

A Witcher that was currently under him, eyes closed and breath even. Trusting. Jaskier warmed the rose oil between his hands and then traced along the well defined muscles to spread it. They were coiled tight and twitching, it would be a while until Jaskier would have managed to knead out all the knots. But at least there was a healthy layer of fat to them now. Something to actually dig his fingers into.

Jaskier was glad to be allowed to do this again. Times like these had been scarce these last weeks. What with Jaskier being assigned all kinds of chores away from Geralt and the time consuming preperations he had to make for his pranks. The only time they really spend together now was in the afternoon before supper. And that was to study monsters from dusty old books, that were written by people who had no concept of correct spelling. Some text were nearly unreadable to Jaskier this way, so Geralt sometimes had to translate the blotched swirls on the weathered pages for him.

It was a little over three months since they had stumbled through the entrance of the keep now. The snow had truly covered the pass down the mountain, caging them in until spring. And Jaskier was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. Winter was long in the mountains. They'd probably have to stay here for at least two to three more months.

"Jask, no playing with my hair."

"Aww, but you looked so good with those braids." Jaskier chuckled, rubbing the tips of Geralts wet strands between his fingers before sliding his hands back over Geralts shoulders to start his work.

Geralt grunted, a noise that Jaskier interpreted as being pleased. "They made me a laughing stock."

"Only because Lambert and Eskel thought the ghost did them while you were black out drunk. If they had known how patiently you sat with me the whole night-"

"You won't tell them."

"Of course not." Jaskier scoffed. "Not now at least. They haven't caught me yet and I want to drag it out as much as I can. But after..."

He trailed off, laughing at the growl Geralt let loose. "I wonder how they would react if I told them you actually fell asleep during my masterful ministrations- Ah!"

His shriek was followed by bubbling laughter as Geralt bucked him off to turn on his side. The glare he was given was absolutely murderous and would have made a sane man run for the hills. It would have made Jaskier flinch back had it been directed at him a few weeks ago. But now he was confident enough to face it with a grin, even if it was still a bit shaky around the edges.

He slapped Geralts back and pressed on his shoulder to guide him back down on his belly. "None of that now, you'll dirty the sheets."

"The torture I go through for you."

Jaskier pressed in a bit harder onto the firm flesh beneath him in retaliation. "You mean the sacrifices you make to torture your brothers. After all if I hadn't targeted you they would have grown suspicious. Already were, to be exact."

"Hm. Not torture."

"Oh?"

"You're bullying them with kindness. Not the same."

If Jaskier didn't know it better he would have said there was a bit of jealousy in Geralts tone. No, couldn't be. Must have sounded weird because Geralts voice was muffled by a pillow.

"I do the same to you, dear heart."

"You poured pepper into my drink."

"Pepper is good for you, clears out your sinuses and such."

"Bullshit."

"It did make you drink less than you intended, though."

Geralt stretched a bit more under him and bend his neck so he could watch Jaskiers face. It couldn't have been a comfortable posture. "Why are you suddenly so against alcohol?"

Jaskier shrugged. "I'm not. You know I absolutely support a night of getting black out drunk. But I've seen Lamberts stash. Did you guys honestly plan to drink every night?"

"Not every night. Most nights."

"Of course, that makes it better. Didn't know you were an alcoholic."

"You don't know me." was growled into the pillow, Geralt immediately tensing up again, ruining Jaskiers work.

Jaskier hated it when Geralt did that. It always made him want to scream and rage. This stupid, confusing push and pull game the Witcher was playing with him. He had half a mind to just change the topic, natter on about something trivial just to keep the headache from forming.

"You could just join us next time."

Jaskier blinked out of his thoughts, noticing that he hadn't moved for a suspicious amount of time and returned to his task again.

"What difference would that make?" He wondered aloud, hands gliding from shoulders to arms.

"Would be less to drink for us then."

"I don't think I'd be welcome, to be honest. And there's no way my poor human metabolism would be able to work through whatever hellish brew Lambert has cooked up."

He patted Geralts arm when he was done, joints popping as he stood to waddle over to the wash basin. The sticky, heated air made his head spin pleasantly.

He heard Geralt stand up behind him, bed creaking. "Eskel warmed up to you. And you don't know that."

"Lambert didn't yet. And I'm pretty sure."

Jaskier wove around Geralt, who stood still as a salt statue in the middle of the room, to get to the balcony. It was early afternoon and sunny for once. The high plaform he stood on elevated him enough to give him a perfect view of the winter wonderland the last storms had turned the keep and surrounding area into.

"Lambert's always an ass." A heavy, stinky cloak was dropped on his shivering shoulders. "And you're a chicken."

"How dare you! I am not!" Despite his offended squawking Jaskier leaned back into the chest behind him, the body heat of a Witcher a much better weapon against the cold than a measly cloak.

He was thrilled when Geralt didn't pull back, always was despite it happening less and less since Oxenfurt.

And while Geralt didn't move his arms around him or rested his hands on his hips – something Jaskier craved with a burning intensity - he did bend forward lightly to whisper into Jaskiers ear.

"Proof it."

"Fine! But not tonight. I have something planned for tonight."

"Should I ask?"

"No." Jaskier trilled and grinned up at him, noses close to brushing together before Geralt pulled back a bit with a confused little frown.

~~~

Jaskier – a man of his word - didn't join in on the drinking that night. That didn't mean that he wasn't present for most of it. He had stepped into invisibility in the safe confines of his room, a wave of calm washing over him as he did.

Now that the hiding and running was mostly over and Jaskier had the freedom to turn visible again to chatter, sing and perform as his heart desired, being invisible felt like a safe escape route from the everyday chaos and insecurities that still plagued him.

He loved what he could observe and do when no one knew he was there. And he had to admit drunken Witchers were quite the funny sight. It was more the frightening frequency of those nights that made him worry. It was as if they used the alcohol to buffer something or as some sort of bad coping mechanism. And Jaskier feared what it would do to their minds. That steady trickle of liquid insanity entering their bloodstream on such a constant basis.

Jaskier had _sniffed_ at one of the bottles once and had felt woozy! If he didn't know about Witchers enhanced metabolism he would have thought they were trying to poison themselves!

Jaskier really wanted to show them that they didn't need to be half out of their minds or doped up on adrenalin to relax and have fun. But he had quickly learned that messing with the alcohol supply was a hard no go.

Geralt had made that absolutely clear after the tea prank. It had been the first time after the mountain incident that Geralts temper had flared like that and frankly Jaskier had been overcome by the urge to go invisible and hide. He had stood stock still instead, accepting the storm that had rolled over him with a meek nod and apology. He hadn't quite understood why the prank had set Geralt off like that, still didn't. But he had no desire to poke the sleeping dragon again, so he had to resort to other tactics.

Maybe at some point Eskel could explain their weird tradition to him. Geralt sure as hell wouldn't.

Jaskier tiptoed into the great hall where the three had decided to spend their night this time. They circled every night, he had noticed, changing from Lamberts to Eskels to Geralts room and then restarting in the great hall. Sometimes Vesemir joined them for a few hours, but the old Witcher never stayed long.

This time he had just caught them downing their first round judging from the fullness of the bottles littering the table. Eskel and Geralt had already taken out their Gwent cards, Lambert hovering over Eskels shoulder to deliver an ongoing commentary of all the ways Eskel messed up.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the dagger in Lamberts hand. He was playing with it, spinning it around his wrist, throwing it in the air and catching it again with a twirl. All without looking up from Eskels cards even once. It made Eskel nervous, he could tell, the constant movement and chatter distracting him.

He clamped down on the urge to throw a stone at the dagger when it was thrown in the air again. He needed them relaxed and out of it if he wanted to have peace while preparing his next prank.  
Thankfully even Eskels large pool of patience dried up at some point. With a move so quick that Jaskier barely saw it he made a sign and send Lambert flying backwards.

What followed was a round of bickering and a variety of very creative curses coming from Lambert, while Geralt just sat there with an almost hidden smile on his face, coyly rearranging the cards to his benefit while no one was looking.

Jaskier shook his head when Eskel turned back around after taking a huge gulp of his tankard, none the wiser. Psh, Amateurs.

Gingerly he settled down on the table a safe distance away to watch over them. By now he was fairly confident that he could accurately measure the throwing distance of the weapons and innocent cuttlery the Witchers often used to give their arguments some gravitas.

He would be lying if he didn't itch to join them in person one day, although he doubted the three would let their guard down like this when he was around.

The night progressed swimmingly, with the wolves getting drunker and drunker as the hours ticked by. Eskel and Lambert had started having something akin to a singalong night only without actual music and the main lyrics being lalala. This somehow turned into a debate about the correctness of his songs (which they had butchered with their drunken imitations and poor vocal controls) and that turned into a recitation of factual monster lore, which then got taken over by a competition about who could best imitate the various noises monsters made.

Really that anyone could think Witchers had no emotions was beyond him. Jaskier doubted he could look either of them in the eye without snickering ever again. He was a bit sad that he could only witness this treasure of drunken idiocy from the sidelines. He would have definitely won that competition.

It doesn't take long after that. Soon eyelids flutter closed, first Eskels, then Geralts and Lambert starts to hoist them both up, stumbling under their weight, helping them to their rooms. Jaskier followed them on silent soles, body tingling from keeping his heart still for so long. Or maybe that was just his own exhaustion.

They tumbled into Geralts room, now devoid of most of the trash (Jaskier had successfully talked Geralt out of throwing away most of the useless things) and didn't make it any further. He smiled slightly at the snoring pile of Witchers, making a mental note to put some potions into grabbing distance for them to find tomorrow.

Satisfied that he wouldn't be having any unpleasant surprise guests messing with his plans tonight he skipped up to his room to get his supplies and ran back down with barely a sound made.

Eskel had lovingly prepared a barn in one of the lesser courtyards for his goats to winter. Jaskier didn't know how he had done it, but as soon as he slipped inside Jaskier felt a cozy warmth envelope him. The ground underneath was littered with a thick layer of straw, cushioning his steps even more as he lit up the lamps in the place. Thank the stars even Witchers couldn't see everything in the dark.

Lil Bleater was the first to greet him when he turned visible again, his heartrate picking up, working double time to make up for the long stretch of inactivity. With a smile Jaskier let the little goat baby sniff him and nibble on his heavy cloak.

Soon the quiet bleating attracted the others, who, uncaring of the time of day, pressed for food. A request Jaskier happily fullfilled.

While the darlings ate Jaskier took out the vials of beet juice and filled a small bucket with water and laid out the brushes and dry cloth. One after another Jaskier pulled the goats to him and dozed them with the dye, brushing their fur and made sure they weren't too wet not wanting them to freeze.

Jaskier smiled and breathed out a barely audible hum as he worked. He had fond memories of preparing this one. Vesemir had helped him with baking and smashing up the beets. The old Witcher still intimidated Jaskier a fair amount. He was gruff and commanding and Jaskier had the distant feeling that he was still lacking in Vesemirs eyes. But he was also a kind and patient man, someone Jaskier would have loved to call father in another life.

He was also surpisingly good in verbal sparring matches. Jaskier had no doubt that's where Geralts dry wit had come from.

Still it was a shame Jaskier couldn't prank Vesemir. The man had made that one of his many rules that had sprung up during the months of pranking. Not that he could have gotten anything past the old man.

Jaskier stiffled a yawn as he sent the last goat off. Now the only one that needed preparing was Lil Bleater. Jaskier knew better than to mess with her white coat. She was Eskels favourite, the apple of his eye and she deserved some extra treatment.

As if she knew that it was her turn Lil Bleater traipsed up to him and nestled into his chest with an affectionate headbutt. Smiling down at her Jaskier scratched behind her ears. She was still so small. He hoped that he had gotten her measurements right.

He would need to write a song about her in the near future, he decided as he worked. For her and Roach, the Witchers animal companions. Now he only needed to find one for Lambert as well. Hm, maybe he could use a certain cat as a metaphor or something...

Snippets of lyrics started to form in his head, overlapped by periods of nothing, his brain too tired to focus on anything for long. He forced himself to do this right, though, making sure the goats were all comfortable before blowing out the candles, bundling up all his stuff and vanishing from sight.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

~~~

The next day found him far too soon and tried to drag him from the bed with the insistant howling of the wind and an aggressive sun shining her flashlight directly into his face. Usually Geralt would have come up before nature could start to pester Jaskier, but alas the lazy buffon wasn't there. Never one to obey orders, not even from nature itself, Jaskier rolled over so his back was to the window and wrapped the blankets over his head so only his nose poked out of the covers.

Jaskier was halfway back to sleep when his door was assaulted by a quickfire of loud knocks followed by what could only be Lamberts voice.

"Hey sleepyhead! Get the fuck up already! It's brunchtime!"

The knocking stopped and Jaskier idly listened to the stomps as Lambert walked away, wincing when the young Witcher started banging pots together and yelling for his brothers to drag their asses out of their beds.

He wondered if he could just ignore it a bit longer, but the promise of food and the fear of missing the fruits of his prank finally got him up.

"You look like a drugged Drowner."

Lambert snickered as Jaskier flinched at the sudden presence behind him. He would have tumbled down the narrow, winding stairs hadn't it been for Lamberts quick reflexes, hands catching him by the elbow and pulling him back.

"And you would know what that looks like, wouldn't you?" Jaskier muttered, swatting at the hands still on his person and narrowed his eyes at the steps in front of him. Treacherous fuckers.

"Yeah I do. Fun fellas when they're high. Easier to kill, too."

Now that got Jaskier waking up faster than a bucket full of ice cold water to the face. "You really drugged them? Why? _How?!_ "

Lamberts smirk was mean when Jaskier glanced back at him. "Wouldn't ya like to know, songbird."

How he wanted to punch that asshole in the face with a brick (he wouldn't want to harm his hands). Alas they were still not on even ground and Jaskier didn't want to risk injury on his behalf. So he settled for a deadly scowl.

"Oh come on! You can't just dangle a juicy bit of story in front of me and then not tell! That's sacrilege! Heresy! Rude!"

"Gotta earn the rights to my awesome stories, pipsqueak! See ya at the table!"

Before Jaskier could scream at him in outrage Lambert shouldered past him and jumped down the rest of the stairs, sprinting off towards the great hall. Jaskier wrinkled his nose at Lamberts retreating back, seething.

The audacity! He was pulling more than just his weight already. Why did everyone around here think he wasn't worth anything? He was here wasn't he? Made the trek up the mountain. He had walked the Path on and off with Geralt at his side for decades! He was helping them with chores, learning about monsters and training with them. Wasn't that enough? What else did he have to proof?!

Damn it Jaskier was so tired. He loved a good challenge, but he feared this was becoming a bit too much even for him.

Shaking his head Jaskier dispersed the dark tendrils of self doubt that occasionally tried to ensnare him since the mountain. _Breath Jaskier._ He told himself. _You're just grumpy because you haven't slept much. Lambert was just teasing._ It was okay. He didn't need to freak out. Everything was fine. Lambert was just being Lambert. The wolves challenged each other all the time. This had nothing to do with him being seen as unworthy.

The small pep talk helped to sooth his rattled nerves and the heavenly smell that wormed itself into his nostrils shortly after dispersed the last of his dark mood.

Vesemir grunted at him in greeting, probably not happy that his daily routine had been thrown off by pretty much all of them. He did shove a steaming bowl in Jaskiers direction, though, so he couldn't be that mad.

Lambert had already taken a seat and was shovelling thick porridge into his mouth. Jaskier pulled a disgusted face at his antics before joining in on the speed eating. Running around all night tending to the goats sure had made him crave food.

A little while later Geralt and Eskel shuffled into the great hall and fell onto the bank on either side of Jaskier. Immediately Eskel slumped over, head hitting the wooden table with a thud accompanied by a groan. Geralt tipped sideways and knocked into Jaskier, who let his spoon fall into his bowl and used both of his hands to steady his sleepy Witcher.

Huh, so that's what he had forgotten last night. Poor Witchers. Although, maybe the hangover would finally teach them a lesson.

"Geralt! You're heavy!"

"Pfff you're just wimpy."

Jaskier stuck his tongue out at Lambert and shoved at Geralt until he was upright.

"How can you be so chipper? Fuck." Eskel moaned.

"I'm just special like that."

"You're a nuisant-, nues-, you're annoying that's what you are."

Jaskier grabbed the pitcher and filled two glasses of water for the two hangover Witchers while they spoke. And rolled his eyes when the action made him the target of Lamberts scorn again.

"Mothering them, songbird? Or have you decided to be our humble servant now? If so get me-"

"Lambert leave off." Geralt growled after gulping down the rest of his water, finally awake enough to get himself some food.

"I would have gotten you one, too. But you don't seem to need it. I could hit you over the head with one of the pots, if you'd like. Might do wonders for your personality. Sort some things out up there."

"Don't bother, tried it already." Eskel mumbled.

"Hey you fuckers-"

Jaskier settled back with a small smile, the reality of Lamberts prickliness a soothing balm against his fears. The meal went on like this, barbs being traded like some kind of foreign currency. Vesemir had made himself scarce after a while, telling them to take the day off seeing as they weren't up for anything anyway.

Oh, it was shaping up to be a glorious day! Jaskier hoped he could stick to Geralt for most of it. And if the glances his favourite Witcher was giving him were any indicator, Geralt had about the same thing in mind.

His suspicions were confirmed when the group dispersed and Geralt started to trail behind Jaskier, a curious glint in his eyes. Jaskier grinned at him and immediately started to run a commentary on everything and nothing, going off on tangents, looping around to childhood stories and overall switching topics as though he was lifting up wares at the market deciding if he should buy them or not.

None of his subjects was pursued for longer than a few seconds, which meant that by the time Geralt had scrambled up enough of his wit to talk, Jaskier had gone through at least twenty something different mini stories.

"What did you do last night?"

The stream of chatter stopped and Jaskier grinned, daring to loop his arm with Geralts to further guide him towards the barn.

"Watched you get smashed mostly. You're imitation of a werewolf howl was abysmal, by the way. Which I'm disappointed with. I thought you were from the Wolf School. But I guess you're really more of a cat- Owww! That jab was unnecessary dear friend! Anyway what I was _going_ to say: I do have to say Eskel has the best vocal range of all of you-"

"You didn't hear Vesemir, yet."

"No I guess not. Is he good?"

"Jaskier."

"Right." They were nearly there when a scream echoed through the keep.

This time Geralt didn't even tense up, only raised an intrigued eyebrow at Jaskier, who started to pull more insistantly on his arm. They rounded the corner a bit later than Lambert, all of them skitting to a stop in front of the fence marking the goat den.

Eskel was standing in there, eyes as wide as saucers, surrounded by bright pink goats and Lil Bleater, who was happily nibbling at Eskels shoe clad in a beautiful yellow and red tutu, horns decorated with shiny ribbons tied off with bows at the base of the skull.

The whole courtyard was deathly silent until his gaze locked onto his brothers.

"Did we do this last night?" he whispered, disbelief evident in his voice. He bent down and gingerly touched his goats to see if they were alright, fingers catching onto the silken fabric of Lil Bleaters dress. An impressed little noise left him at the softness of it.

"Not that I know of." Geralt shrugged and Lambert shook his head.

"We don't even have stuff like that just laying around. Bet it was that fucking ghost again. Shouldn't have let our guard down like that."

Weirdly enough the idea seemed to calm Eskel. He scooped Lil Bleater up with a smile, cooing at his favourite goat, bumping heads with her.

"Well isn't someone feeling pretty today! You have amazing fashion sense, my dear." Eskel spun her around with a laugh, the sound merging with her delighted bleating.

"Yuck. Can you get any more disgusting." Lambert complained, but his show had already been ruined by the fact that he was now inspecting the other goats, eyes flickering to Lil Bleaters dress every now and then, tracking the movements with barely concealed interest.

"Hm."

Jaskier rolled his eyes at Geralts standard noise. This hm sounded amused and approving and when no one else was looking, Jaskier felt a big, scarred hand ruffle through his hair in praise.

Yes, Jaskier thought, everything was shaping up to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this fic is getting longer and longer on it's own. Anyway the idea with the dye came from @DarkInuFan and I thought it was lovely.  
> I love Lil Bleater as Eskels animal companion though, so she had to get special treatment XD
> 
> Hope you liked the update!~ And thanks so much for all the comments! I haven't come around to answering any of them yet, but I hope I will soon ><


	8. Chapter 8

Geralt wouldn't have thought that playing with a bunch of brightly coloured goats could be so... therapeutic. Although in his case it wasn't so much playing with the goats as watching his brothers fawn over Lil Bleaters pretty dress while trying to keep Jaskier from shivering apart.

Because despite it being around midday the sun had yet to really come forth, some small flakes of ice lazily gliding down towards them every now and again. Jaskier had started to shiver not long after they had left the great hall and Geralt was currently using this excuse to wrap the younger man up in a hug.

It was as much a reassurance to himself that Jaskier was still there and alright and an awkward show of pride. The bard really had outdone himself this time. The prank had been well tailored to Eskels preferences and had needed a fair amount of preparing. Geralt was happy to witness that Jaskier was starting to spend more time in planning out his actions. He had feared after the first few risky pranks that Jaskier would dive into this whole thing like he always did: wholly underprepared and with barely controlled impulses guiding his actions.

The satisfaction of seeing Eskels shocked face turning into a delighted grin was nearly enough to wash away the unreasonable hurt that had taken hold of him when Jaskier had refused to join in on their drinking again...

Jaskier, unaware of Geralts brooding, pressed his back more firmly against the Witchers chest and hummed what sounded like a new song in the making. His hands had come to rest on top of Geralts, which had found their place on Jaskiers stomach. Worryingly cold fingers rubbed over his knuckles and so Geralt moved to trap them underneath his palms instead, heart doing a little leap when Jaskier breathed a happy sigh at the action.

Still Geralt had to check, hiding his sniffing under the guise of nuzzling Jaskiers hair, an action the bard seemed to enjoy quite a bit. Geralt could understand, he too liked his hair being played with.

Jaskier had a fresh scent about him, no hints of sadness or anxiety, or, gods forbid, fear. Good. His friend was still content then. But probably exhausted after working to make Eskels goats pretty all night. Geralt could go for a nap as well, hangover still not quite overcome.

"Shit I wish I had something this soft to wear!" Geralt heard Lambert proclaim. His younger brother was currently rubbing his face into Lil Bleaters side. He could hear Lamberts beard scratching against the sensitive fabric and grimaced. Thank the gods his brothers didn't know Jaskier well or the fine garments would have been a dead give away.

He could feel Jaskier inhale, probably to make some scathing remark, because of course the bard would be offended by the treatment of such fine clothing. Geralt clamped a hand over Jaskiers mouth to stop him from accidently outing himself, briefly wondering if what he was doing was cheating. Oh well, no ones guess had been accurate anyway. He ignored the insistant, annoyed licks of his friend as Eskel chimed in.

He took Lil Bleater from Lambert and cradled the goat against his chest with a scowl. "It wouldn't survive a day on the road if you had."

"I wouldn't be wearing it on the Path, you jackass." Lambert huffed and squatted down to pet some other goat, who had been chewing on his pants. "I'd wear it here, over winter."

"You'd freeze to death." Geralt decided to butt in. He had relinquished his hold after Jaskier had bitten him in the finger, but not before flicking his nose in retaliation. Now he was rubbing Jaskiers spit onto Jaskiers hands. The feral bastard deserved it.

Lambert pulled a face at him. "I've slept in the courtyard at night in nothing but breeches once, nah I wouldn't!"

"That was because I dared you." Eskel said, and the glance at Jaskier told Geralt that he was saying this mostly so the bards curiousity could be quenched. "And we had to drag your sorry ass back inside after an hour because you _would_ have died from hypothermia."

"I was fine!"

"Your hands had already turned blue." Geralt reminded him and Jaskier made an enraged little noise at the back of his throat.

Geralt smirked at that. He had just done the equivalent of painting a big red target on Lamberts back. His friend hated it when the people he cared for hurt themselves because of stupid reasons. He was like a vengeful spirit of self-care. Geralt would know, he had invoked Jaskiers wrath enough times himself.

"Whatever." Lambert muttered, clearly done with the conversation.

Not long after he had stomped off Geralt pulled Jaskier away and back into the warmer parts of the keep with a muttered "Let Eskel have some quality time with his lady."

Unfortunately walking meant having to let go of his friend, an action that didn't sit well with him at all. Sure as the months had ticked by, he had stopped panicking so much whenever Jaskier drifted away to do whatever he did. The training in the mornings (although nerve wracking for the first few times, Jaskier was _horrible_ with a sword) tired him out in a good way, drained the fuel to his anxiety. And the alcohol and company in the evening calmed him down enough to sleep through most nights, keeping his head clear of exhaustion.

All that didn't mean that he had stopped worrying, though. Vesemirs words had been stuck in his head ever since they had been uttered. And the high walls that greeted him every morning only served as an additional reminder.

Jaskier was essentially trapped here, in more ways than one. It still send a hot flame of anger through his body just thinking about it. Because if Jaskier was trapped, Geralt was trapped as well and both of them were creatures of freedom. Geralt feared this whole ordeal would explode in their faces sooner or later. Just like it had with him and Yennefer.

But, Geralt couldn't really do anything about that at the moment. He could only try to make the situation as bearable as possible, which included most of all making sure that his friend was comfortable.

And Jaskier seemed most comfortable when Geralt was touching him in some way. At first he had been puzzled by this. Sure Jaskier had always been a very affectionate man, but even in their best days he had never been this... _cuddly_.

Then he had gotten aggravated, because Jaskier couldn't be handled like one of his brothers. He bruised more easily, for one. And he was softer. Geralt learned fast that what Jaskier sought from him wasn't manhandling or playful rough housing (most of the time), but gentle touches. Things that Geralt was unfamiliar with outside the bedroom, where he had always taken care to not hurt his lovers.

It had been uncomfortable and frustrating, trying to accomodate Jaskiers tastes without his brain linking the gentleness to anything more than a strictly platonic friendship. More times than not Geralt had wanted to ask why Jaskier had suddenly become so touchy. But he had been scared the question might hurt the fragile equilibrium they had built. Or worse, make Jaskier pull back again.

The puzzle pieces had fallen into place on its own, anyway. After some long nights of pondering the riddle on his own while on their way to Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier was touch-starved. It was the only possible explanation, one that made frightening sense given that his friend had slunk after him like a shadow for months, probably unable to seek any kind of attention at all.

After that realization things had become easier, Geralts grip on Jaskier tighter, his own touches more bold and in return Jaskier had started seeking him out more. They were always touching now, one way or another, when they were in proximity to each other. And it was fine. Good. Understandable. The best possible solution. Because like this Geralt could make sure Jaskier was fine and stifle his worry. And Jaskier could get his fill of affection that he must have been craving ever since that thrice damned goddess cursed him.

While Geralt reviewed his stance on the ever growing number of times they touched, they ended up in Jaskiers room. Geralt lit the hearth with Igni, on autopilot, still mulling over how he should feel about this whole thing, while Jaskier prepared what looked like a nest on the floor.

With a grunt Geralt flopped down onto the furs, blankets and pillows. He closed his eyes against his ongoing headache and not a moment later Jaskier drew the curtains. His bard knew him so well.

Not long after Jaskier settled beside him, a handwidth away, lute in his lap and his songbook, quill and inkpot in reach. Something fluttered in Geralts stomach and he dared to inch a bit closer so his head touched Jaskiers tight. Strange. Maybe it was the left over alcohol. Hopefully he didn't end up puking all over his friend.

"You should sleep." Geralt murmured to distract himself.

"I'll do that later. It's been too long since I played. I don't want to get rusty. And I need to get this idea I have on paper! The animal companions of Kaer Morhen! How does that sound? It's a working title, of course, as is the song. I'm still not sure what kind of animal I should atrribute Lambert to, I'm thinking cat-"

"No Kaer Morhen."

"Huh?"

"It's secret."

"I see. Yes I'll have to change that. The Witchers companions maybe? No that sounds bland..."

Geralt let him babble on, Jaskiers voice low enough to not aggravate his headache any further. He must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knew he blinked open his eyes to Vesemir standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.

"Geralt. A minute."

Geralt groaned and hoisted himself up, but not before getting a reassuring pat from Jaskier. The bastard was as relaxed as an overcooked noddle. And why wouldn't he be, allowed to stay hidden in the safety of his room as he was. _He_ didn't have to have a probably harrowing conversation with Vesemir.

Life was unfair.

"What is it?" He growled after closing the door behind him. The hallway was cold, a stark contrast to the heat of Jaskiers room and the sudden shift in temperatures made even him a little dizzy.

Bloody alcohol making him all weak. He just wanted to continue with his nap and sleep off the rest of Lamberts devilish concoction.

Vesemir send him a vaguely disappointed look. "You're clinging to him too much, Geralt. Give the boy some room to breath."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Jaskier was away all the time. At least half the day. And mostly all night. Geralt and Eskel had been spending more time together in the keep most winters! He didn't get it. First Yennefer and now Vesemir. Why did they suddenly decide he needed advice on how to care for his bard? He was doing fine!

"It means your glued to his side the moment he steps into the same room as you. It means you don't concentrate on me or Lambert while training and you get all hazy eyed whenever he isn't under your watch."

Geralt felt his hackles rise. "So what? What does it matter?"

"Here? Not much. Out there? You let him distract you like that on the Path and you'll both be dead sooner rather than later."

"He's been with me for long enough. I know how to handle him."

"Knew."

"What?"

Vesemir sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as he had done countless times in Geralts youth, when he or Lambert or Eskel had been especially thick or difficult about something.

"I may be old but I'm not blind. Something changed between the two of you and it's not only because of his current situation. You're acting as if he is made of glass. I can't imagine you did that before."

Geralt pressed his mouth into a thin line. He hadn't told anyone about the mountain yet. It had never been anyones business. And they had been over it, Jaskier and him. He had apologized. Jaskier had accepted and forgiven him. This between them now was just getting used to a new routine.

"It's the first time I brought him here. How would you know?" he growled after some time of silence. Or semi-silence, really. Jaskier had started up playing again and had slipped back into scales. Something he did whenever he was stuck, but didn't want to admit defeat yet.

"Don't be daft, we all heard you talk about him at length before. Had you acted like you do now whenever he isn't at your side I would have thrown you out of the keep after the first week."

"I'm not that bad." He wasn't, was he? Jaskier hadn't complained. But then again Jaskier also loved being given attention and he had been quite distracted with everyday life at Kaer Morhen.

"No. You're worse. The bard's competent enough to stay alive on his own. It would do you good to remember that and start watching your own back again." Before Geralt could defend himself further (or snarl at his mentor in outrage) Vesemir cut him off with a withering glare. "Our pantry is starting to empty out. You'll come hunting with me in three days-"

"Jas-"

"We'll mind the distance. I won't cause him pain over this."

Geralt still stared at Vesemir, unsure and wanting to protest more. He trusted his mentor, of course. He wasn't a cruel man, despite the harsh punishments he had dealt out in the old days. But something uncomfortable stirred in his gut at the thought of accidently straying too far.

Vesemir squeezed his shoulder, eyes soft now that the hard part of the conversation was over. "He'll be _fine_. Now go back in there and sleep off your bad mood. You're acting like a growly dog."

Geralt thankfully slipped back into the room, knowing that Vesemir won't let them slack off like that for another day. Jaskier looked up at him as he entered, frustrated frown turning into a smile.

"How did the talk go?"

"Horrible."

He strode towards his friend and plucked the lute from his hands, ignoring Jaskiers token protest. Instrument stored safely away in one of the corners and inkpot and journal shoved out of reach from Jaskiers grabby hands Geralt proceeded to wrestle his friend onto the furs and draped himself over him.

"Geralt!"

Said Witcher barely heard the whine over Jaskiers loud heartbeat, that pounded directly into his ear. He nuzzled the chest he had pillowed his head on, arms tightening around his victims waist to keep him still.

"Go to sleep."

Jaskier huffed, fingers winding into Geralts hair to play with the loose strands. "You're insufferable."

"And you're tired. Sleep."

"But I still need to-"

Jaskier made a valiant effort to stretch out one of his arms to reach his journal, but Geralt was quick to intercept the movement and trap the limb back under his weight.

"No."

"Geralt! It'll fall asleep there."

"Hm."

"Geraaalt." Jaskier whined, halfheartedly trying to wriggle out of Geralts grasp.

Geralt sniffed at him to make sure he was just being playful and upon finding reassurance, promptly used a bit more of his weight to pin the struggling bard down.

"Stop it. Pillows don't write."

Jaskier huffed, a cute little noise caught between annoyance, fondness and laughter. "And blankets don't talk."

Geralt hummed, finally closing his eyes as he felt Jaskier settle. He had wanted to wait until Jaskier had fallen asleep before dozing off again, but the gentle petting and low humming of his best friend worked better than any sleeping draught and he was out cold in a matter of minutes.

~~~

Jaskier gazed down at the snoring Witcher in his arms, heart so full of love that it was close to bursting. He wondered what Vesemir had talked to Geralt about out in the hallway. It had taken him a fair amount of self control to not eavesdrop. He hoped it wasn't anything concerning him. He had the bad feeling that if it were it wouldn't be anything good.

Shaking his head to get rid of the thought, he tried to do as Geralt had told him. He _was_ tired. Of course he was. But somehow his body seemingly had become used to being awake and about at all times and he couldn't calm down. How could he sleep anyway? With the love of his life drooling onto his chest, his solid weight slowly but surely squeezing the life out of his right arm?

His beloved Witcher was seldom so openly affectionate. Jaskier usually had to initiate something first, if by words or body language or touch. He wanted to bask in this rare moment forever. Forget all his worries and fears and just be here, under Geralt, safe and warm and cared for.

He also really, really wanted to keep composing, though. Only staying still, even like this, was boring him to death. And so he settled for humming and mouthing toneless words, quiet enough not to disturb the sleeping Witcher in his arms, while lightly massaging Geralts probably still pounding head.

This was fine.

Who needed sleep anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For someone promoting self care Jaskier really has no clue how to give his body a rest.
> 
> Regular prank business will resume in the next chapter~


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm not sure if I should be disappointed in my pups or impressed by your stealth."

Jaskier startled awake when the droning voice of Vesemir registered in his mind. He sat up with a groan and rubbed his eyes with an arm that felt like lead. Training had been brutal. As if it wasn't bad enough that the sessions tended to happen right after breakfast at a ridiculously early hour, no they also had to happen outside. It was _freezing_ outside. And while his fingers had lost feeling at an alarming rate the new steel sword he had been allowed to fight with had thoroughly fucked up his arm muscles.

Eskel was a gentleman, but he was a ruthless teacher. Sure he was trying really hard to make training bearable for Jaskier, likening the foot drills to dancing lessons and inventing rhymes for Jaskier to remember the movements and counters. But it was still fighting with heavy weapons in a snow covered, slippery courtyard. And it sucked.

So Jaskier had scurried off at the first sign that the drills were over and had bundled himself up in a cocoon of blankets in the library. He had meant to read a little, there was a lovely section of poetry that Eskel had shown him. He must have been more exhausted than he had thought.

He blearily blinked up at Vesemir, who stood before him with his arms crossed and a hint of a smile on his weathered face.

"I'm pretty sure they are just not trying very hard anymore."

Vesemir nooded, motioning for Jaskier to scoot over, so he could sit on the couch himself. "They do seem to be enjoying themselves."

"What are they doing?"

"Currently? Sitting in the great hall and trying to reach out to the ghost that is haunting this place."

Jaskier sat up straighter, exhaustion forgotten. He had wanted to take a few days off, but if the opportunity presented itself...

"Really? What else?"

"Holding hands and shouting names."

"Awww, now I have to see!"

"Of course you do." Vesemir snorted, taking the blankets from Jaskier and settling down himself. "Any marked pages?"

Jaskier waved at him, already focussed on dimming his heartbeat. "I'll know where I was, go ahead."

Jaskier saw Vesemir tense up as he stepped out of the visible plane and into the one probably inhabited by ghosts. For a second he felt himself tense up, too, waiting for some kind of danger to jump out at him. Then he realized that he usually turned invisible when he was alone. Vesemir had only ever witnessed him doing that once, it must have been surprising.

"Make a detour to the kitchen, mask your scent with the herbs in the cabinet to the right." Vesemir grumbled once he had calmed down again, sliding down deeper into the blankets.

Jaskier wondered if the man had just wanted to weasel him out of his resting place. "Will do."

He felt Vesemirs burning gaze at his back until he disappeared through the library doors and turned right to sprint down the hallway. Preparing accordingly as Vesemir had told him to he arrived at the great hall in time for another unfamiliar name to be shouted by Lambert.

The two Witchers had sat down with their feet tugged under their asses, in a circle that glowed a light purple. Yrden to trap ghosts.

All around them candles burned and a few books lay in easy reach. Jaskier tiptoed closer, the cloud of incense he had to step through to get to them making his head swim. He wondered how Eskel and Lambert managed to endure such a strong scent with their sensitive noses. He hoped they weren't making themselves too uncomfortable, trying to lure him out.

Once he was close enough to get a good look he saw that the books were full of pretty pictures detailing how you could summon various creatures. Eskel and Lambert seemed to have decided to try a little bit of everything and then throw in some Witcher stuff, too for good measure.

Jaskier eyed the circle the two sat in warily. He wasn't a wraith, but he wasn't sure if the magic would force him to become visible again. Even if it didn't, there was no way of knowing what it would do to him. Judging from the glow and durability of the trap, Eskel must have cast the sign. And you didn't mess with Eskels magic.

The two were slowly running out of names to call between the two of them as Jaskier stood to watch, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Both Eskel and Lambert had their eyes closed, hands joined to form a cage for the lone candle that sat between them. There was also a plate of dried meat, an offering, probably.

"I don't think this is working, Eskel." Lambert mumbled finally, after they had pittered out parotting names back and forth at each other.

He opened his eyes with a grimace, hand twitching to let go of Eskels, but his brother caught the movement and held on tight.

"You have to be patient. Maybe we just didn't get the right name yet."

"And what if we don't know whoever is haunting this keep, hm? If it is one of our fallen brothers than why should he start now? It doesn't make sense!"

Eskel shrugged, blinking his eyes open too, to look around the room with a critical gaze. Jaskier tensed as Eskels eyes swept over him, suddenly scared of being detected. But his invisibility held. He was safe where he was for now.

"That might be true, but what could have gotten in without triggering the wards?" he mused, frowning at a spot close to Jaskier.

If his heart had still been beating it would have stopped that instant. Too late did he remember that he had still been breathing out of habit. His exhales must have disturbed the fine smoke that had enveloped them all.

Jaskier forbid his lungs to expand even one more time and willed himself to stand stock still. It was no use moving away from the spot he currently inhabited. He would just make his presence more obvious this way.

Eskel narrowed his eyes, but did not move otherwise. "It doesn't seem malevolent, so maybe that's why."

"So what now? Eat the Jerky and call it a day?"

Lambert tried again to free his hand to grab at the food offering, which thankfully diverted Eskels attention back to his brother. Eskels arms shook with the effort to keep Lambert still. He had laced their fingers to get a better grip on Lambert, who was scowling down at where he was being locked into place.

"We are going to wait now. Patience brother."

"I feel like I'm the one trapped here..." Lambert muttered, clearly unhappy. "Hey maybe we should try talking to it? Hey ghost! It's me! Come out and talk to me like a man, you fucking coward!"

"Lambert! Be nice!"

"Why don't you drop the act and show us what you've got?!"

" _Lambert!_ "

"Come on! Attack! Rip me open! Scratch me!"

"Lambert, stop antagonizing it!"

Jaskier rolled his eyes at their antics, slowly crouched down as to not disturb the smoke too much and blew out their candle.

"Hah, it worked!" Lambert cheered.

"That could have been just the wind."

Jaskier closed one of the books with the tip of his foot. This time Lambert ripped his hand out of Eskels hold to point at it excitedly.

"And that? How do you explain _that_."

"Hm." Intrigued Eskel looked at the book and Lambert used the opportunity to snatch up some of the food, stuffing it into his mouth before Eskel could react.

"Hey! That's for the ghost!"

"Well it had enough time to take it! It's mine now. You hear that, Ghost? I'm eating your stuff! What cha gonna do about it, hm?"

Not much he could do, Jaskier mused. He wasn't magic, so he couldn't just make stuff levitate and he wasn't comfortable with moving around too much in the haze of the room. He also didn't want to come off as threatening. So throwing things was probably out of the question. Although...

Jaskier eyed the circle, the purple glow was rapidly fading as the sign lost its power. Just a little longer and maybe if he was quick enough-

"What the fuck are you two doing stinking up the whole keep?"

It took all of his self control to stop himself from cheering. Trust Geralt to come to his rescue! The man himself stood barely outside the room, nose twitching and eyes narrowed. His entrance was the perfect distraction. While both Eskel and Lambert were busy greeting Geralt the last of the trap faded out and Jaskier shot his hand forward to grab at the plate and dance away with his price.

The unmanly shriek of rage from Lambert nearly had him cackling.

"Fucking- Did you _see_ that?! That bastard. That was _mine_."

"Technically we let it out for him. Or her. You really can't blame the ghost for taking it."

Eskel leaned back on his haunches with a sigh as Lambert sprang up to pace the room, swiping at the air to see if he could catch something. As the haze swirled from Lamberts movements Jaskier felt safe enough to cross the room, only stopping to press a daring, light kiss onto Geralts cheek before slipping out. A silent thanks for his assistance.

~~~

If there had been any awkward feelings regarding Jaskiers brief onslaught of bravery and following over the top show of affection towards a certain silver haired Witcher, than it had evaporated quite quickly. Or maybe they were just all too busy to really dwell on it. Or Geralt had just decided to ignore it. Really given the amount of possibilities everything was possible.

Jaskier was just glad that he hadn't stepped over any boundaries and scared Geralt off again. It was just... The lines had gotten so blurry. It had become so hard to remember that they weren't actually a thing, with the amount of bodily contact Geralt let him get away with.

That night Jaskier slipped into Lamberts room, where the three brothers had sat up camp for another round of drinking and gambling. He had agonized about whether he should come as Jaskier or as Ghost. It was only when he had gotten to the right hallway that his cowardice had taken over and he had faded out without really being aware of it at first.

Truth was that Jaskier really, really wanted to join them in full. But while he trusted Eskel and Geralt to welcome him into their little circle he wasn't sure about Lambert.

And Lambert being comfortable with the whole situation was important. It was funny, really. Jaskier had never been one for social decorum. He knew how to behave, of course. He was a Viscount. He had slurped up the nuances of court etiquette with his mothers milk. But behaving was just no _fun_. Nothing interesting ever happened when you played by the rules. And more often than not Jaskier just didn't care if he made the people around him uncomfortable or not.

But of course, _of course_ the Witchers were an exception. They always were. Jaskier, once upon a time, had thought it was only Geralt. Because he loved Geralt and it just made sense to make life easier for him (sometimes). But now that he was in the Witchers keep and had met Geralts family, well... Guess he was now caring for a few more people.

So Lambert being okay with him being there was important. Because the guy was getting enough shit on the Path already. This was his safe haven. The nights with his brothers the only times he could really unwind as far as Jaskier understood it. And Jaskier would be loath to take that away from him.

So he slipped in as only a shadow of himself and tried to at least show Geralt that he was there. First with gentle touches on his shoulder and later, when the three had gotten tipsy enough not to notice, with sneakily relocating Geralts tankard every once in a while. The confused swiping at empty air and Geralts pinched expression whenever he noticed his alcohol wasn't where he had put it anymore were too funny. He might have done that particular prank a bit too many times.

He thought it was enough. To be just like this. He clearly had been wrong.

Geralt found him the next day, thankfully not hangover this time, but just as grumpy. Jaskier had just been about to stack the wood he had carried up beside the fireplace when Geralt had barged in without knocking.

"Jaskier."

"Yes, my dear Witcher?"

If at all possible Geralts scowl deepened. He worked his mouth as if he was trying out the words before he could voice them. And Jaskier left him to it, focus shifting back to his task.

"Why didn't you join us last night?" There was an accusation laying in wait somewhere along those lines.

"But I did."

"No..." Jaskier saw Geralt grimace from the corner of his eye. His best friend stood not far from the closed door, refusing to look anywhere but to the ground, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"No?" Jaskier prompted, after a beat of silence that had gone on a little too long.

"Not Ghost. I wanted... I want you there."

"Why does it matter if it's the whole me or not? It's still me."

Geralts head slowly rose so his sharp, narrowed eyes could stare into Jaskiers earnest blue ones. "Because I want you _there_. Interacting with them."

"Ahh." Jaskier debated if he should go over and unclench Geralts hands before the poor idiot broke one of his fingers, but Geralt was faster than him.

With a frustrated sounding grunt he turned and fled the room. And now, Jaskier couldn't have that. He was still confused as fuck. He was owed an explanation! Geralt had never wanted to include him in much of anything before. And these nights were holy from what Jaskier had gathered. So why was it suddenly so important that Jaskier be there?

"Geralt wait the fuck up!"

Damn the bastard was fast. Jaskier had barely made it to the ground floor and Geralt was already in the courtyard and stomping towards the gates.

"Geralt!" The way he jumped over the remaining steps leading out into the cold and slid towards the Witcher might have been a bit dangerous. But his physical well being didn't seem to matter when there was the prospect of Geralt leaving him behind again.

Jaskier was furiously doing the math in his head as he charged ahead. How much time had passed? Was the path down already passable again? But then what would it matter. Even if still closed Geralt, the mule, would have tried anything to get away if he felt uncomfortable enough.

The only reason why Geralt had to stop at the gates was because Vesemir was holding him back with a hand on his shoulder. And thank fuck for that. Jaskier wouldn't have been able to catch up, even with the speed with which he sprinted in their direction.

He only barely managed to break before crashing into the two Witchers, who were both looking at him with raised eyebrows. Which... unfair! _He_ wasn't the one running away from his emotions! (He was just hiding them a bit.)

Jaskier wanted to say and do many things at that moment. Screaming at Geralt was top on the list of those. Defending his own actions came second. What came out instead was a desperate, breathy "Where are you going?"

Now Vesemir looked at Geralt funny. "Didn't he tell you? We are going hunting today."

A whimper worked itself up Jaskiers throat and he bit down on his tongue to prevent it from getting out. "Really? Do I come with? Should I-"

"No." Geralt was quick to interrupt him.

"But-"

"We won't be going far, bard." Vesemir reassured him. "You stay here and help Lambert at the forge."

"The forge?" Both Jaskier and Geralt asked with the same amount of confusion and distaste.

"Yes. Knowing how to make and repair weapons is a good skill to have when following a Witcher."

"I'm not really sure-"

"Lambert is a good craftsman. He'll show you."

The face and tone Vesemir had busted out told Jaskier that arguing would be fruitless. Stomach churning he nodded and stole a quick glance at Geralt, who seemed even more unhappy than before.

"Be careful." Jaskier adressed him quietly, so many more words wanting to pour out right after. But he had practice in holding them in.

"It's just hunting Jask, we'll be fine. Don't let Lambert get to you."

"By the gods you're acting as if you're going off to war! Come now Geralt before the weather shifts again."

Jaskier watched them stomp off, Vesemir grumbling about overly dramatic children, Geralt staring resolutely up ahead. For a moment he considered sneaking after them, but he would have left marks in the snow and he'd rather not be on Vesemirs bad side.

Still he stood rooted to the spot for long enough that his toes started to go numb. At last a whimper did escape him when he couldn't see the backs of the two men anymore. He dashed up the stairs onto the walls, eyes scanning the environment for two dark, human shaped dots. But they had already disappeared.

The phantom pain of a familiar tug made it hard to breath, his head went fuzzy, as if stuffed with cotton. His heart skipped around his chest like a terrified rabbit, so he shut it off. His lungs didn't want to cooperate, so he stopped breathing all together. But shutting down his body didn't help. The fear was still there, coursing through him even without the help of his bloodstream to guide it around.

His head didn't clear. He couldn't stop shaking. He was in limbo, somewhere between overdrive and complete shut down. No, not somewhere in between. That sounded like there was a balance. It was more like he was at both extremes at once. No middle ground. No give. No truce and no respite.

So he paced. He walked up and down the walls until the cold had consumed him and he didn't know who or where he was anymore. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the sick anticipation of pain. Sight of Geralt lost he was hyper aware of the thread binding him to the Witcher. The line hadn't went taut yet, but it was unraveling, Geralt putting more and more distance between them.

"Jaskier! What are you doing up here?!"

Jaskier halted in his pacing. His body, confused about the sudden stillness, swayed on the spot. He barely noticed that Eskel was running towards him. But then there were hands on his shoulders, moving up to his face to tilt it up. The warmth coaxed him out of his mind a little. His gaze slowly unblurred to show him two golden eyes that were full of concern. Remembering that Eskel had shouted a question at him, Jaskier fought to come back to the surface a little more, to make his mouth work again and explain.

"Dunno where the forge is..."

Carefully he was guided back down and into the halls of the keep. Eskel held him close, one arm slung tight around Jaskiers shoulder, the other coming up to rub at his chest, shaking and oh... maybe Jaskier should kick that part of himself back into gear.

His heart protested at first, probably having enjoyed the brief vacation, but eventually it started a sluggish beat that was probably a little too slow for comfort. Eh, better than no heartbeat at all.

"And you were looking for it on the walls? Jaskier, shit breath."

Right, he needed to do that too. So many bodily functions he needed to keep track of. How annoying. At least his eyelids opened and closed on their own.

"Got distracted... Where is it then?"

His lips felt numb, but his wits were slowly coming back to him. He was shaking now that the air was a bit warmer around him and his body finally noticed that freezing wasn't exactly the best temperature to stay alive.

"The forge? Why do you want to go there anyway? That's Lamberts domain."

"Vesemir."

Eskel blew out a breath that edged towards a growl. "Of course. Well the heat might do you good."

Gentle pressure told Jaskier where he should go and Eskel kept up a steady stream of words, talking about his goats and complaining about his tasks and Lambert. For once Jaskier was happy to be silent and tune out. Comforted by the knowledge that Eskel would guide him to safety.

And yet a part of him urged him to glance back at least, to follow that thread before it could pull at him. He didn't want to be hurt again...

"Hey. We're here. Easy."

Jaskier blinked up at Eskel. They stood in front of a sturdy wooden door. Behind it Jaskier could hear the heavy clang of a hammer crashing into steel over and over again. Weird how he hadn't noticed the noise before.

Eskels arm around him didn't leave, but the hand over his chest vanished to reappear in front of him. The door got pushed open and heat slammed into him with wild abandon. Immediately the hammering stopped.

"What the fuck are you doing bringing him here?"

Jaskier squinted at the shadowy figure that must have been Lambert. He was bent over an anvil, wearing nothing more than a leather apron and some pants. His muscles, littered with marks from previous battles, glistened with sweat. His short hair stood up at weird angles, ruffled out of form by dirty hands. Jaskier had never seen Lambert this content before. Not even while drinking.

"Vesemir wanted him to go to you."

"The fuck?!"

Jaskier felt Eskel shrug more than he saw him. "Hey, don't shoot me I'm just the messenger. Anyway can I trust him with you for a bit? I'll go get some water in here."

Lambert scowled, but gave a tiny nod. And just like that Jaskiers support beam let go of him and left him swaying once again. Jaskier tried to concentrate on Lambert as the door behind him closed and forced a fake cheery smile that probably fooled nobody.

"Alright bard, now tell me why did Vesemir send you to me?"

Right. Words. He could do this. He was a poet. He knew how to make sentences. "He..." His voice cracked and broke. Damn his throat was dry. Was it the heat? Or had he just forgotten to drink? He couldn't really remember when the last time he took anything was. He coughed a few times to get the dust out and tried to swallow before trying again. Lambert watched him like a hawk all the while, but stayed blessedly silent. "He wanted me to learn smithing, said the skill would be useful on the Path."

"Oh for fucks sake!" Lambert threw his hands in the air and let the hammer fall down on the mangled piece of iron he had so masterfully bent to his will before. He snarled at it and muttered "Fucking useless now." before sticking it back into the embers.

"That old coot is nuts. I'm not teaching you shit. Go sit over there." He pointed at a bench that had been shoved to the far wall. Away from the main heat of the forge, but close enough to be able to see everything.

Jaskier did as he was told and gratefully used the whole length to sprawl out on. Pillowing his head on his arms he peered up at Lambert. "Vesemir will be mad at you, if you don't teach me."

Lambert shrugged and went to check the chunk of metal again. "I'm not afraid of the bastard. Seriously what is he thinking anyway? Trying to teach you so many of our secrets."

"I'm a very reliable person you know!"

"Maybe, but you're also fucking human! I mean look at you, if it weren't for the bench you'd be laying on the floor by now."

Jaskier huffed and nuzzled down into his arms. His nose was still cold, but at least his toes were starting to get their feeling back. That was a good thing, he needed to remind himself. Even if it hurt and itched like a bitch.

"The floor's comfortable too I'm sure...An you guys learned the same stuff. I can keep up."

"No you fucking can't!" Previous task now fully forgotten Lambert began to pace, volume raising as he talked himself into a fit. "We were kids when we started training. You're what 50?"

Jaskier made an enraged noise. "I'm 40!"

"See? That's like, standing in front of deaths door already for you humans! And that's the second thing. You're fucking human! No mutagens to help you fight the cold or keep you going beyond your limits. And the third thing! You've only been here for a few months. We've trained for years, Jaskier! Years! We didn't learn smithing until after the trails when we were teenagers."

Jaskier was momentarily blindsided by the fact that Lambert had called him by his name, before the rest of what he said trickled into his consciousness.

"So... you don't mind me learning from you?"

"No." Although saying that seemed to pain the youngest Witcher greatly. "It's just fucked up that Vesemir is working you to the ground like that."

"Geralt would have said something if it had gotten to much..."

"Pfff. The golden boy? He's a teachers pet. Wouldn't dare to cross the man if he was in the vicinity. Eskel too by the way. Nah, buttercup you need to grow your own spine."

Hiding his smile in the crook of his arm Jaskier couldn't help but tease. "Like you?"

A genuine, small laugh left him when Lambert puffed up with a grin and shouted "Like me!"

"Whatever he said you should do like him, don't. It'll only get you in trouble." Eskel said, closing the door behind him with his foot. He was carrying several things, most of which didn't look like water at all.

"That's half the fun!"

"For you, maybe. Not for anyone else."

Eskel gently helped Jaskier to get back into a sitting position and gave him a mug of water. The concern slowly faded from Eskels tightly drawn features with every steady breath Jaskier took and every loud heartbeat that filled the silence.

"Spoilsport." Lambert muttered and went back to his work, while Jaskier and Eskel watched.

Water was soon swapped out with some mulled wine and as they wound down Eskel or Lambert would explain to him what Lambert was currently doing and why. The uncomplicated lull of the conversation and the heat of the room was like a blanket wrapping around his tired body. He was still dimmly aware when he tipped sideways only for two hands to catch him and guide his head onto a very comfortable lap.

He murmured something unintelligibel when his feet were propped up shortly after, but a hesitant hand in his hair settled him fast. Before his consciousness fully descended into the black velvety void of sleep he heard one of them whisper "We should do this more often."

He believed he smiled when an affirmative grunt came as an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched too much Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural. Can you tell? XD
> 
> I had wanted to be much further along in the story already, but @DarkInuFan left a comment with the description of a wonderful scene and I needed to add that. So more Angst for you guys XD
> 
> Btw. I always forget to mention but I'm also on tumblr under @seralyra (I upload fanart and fanfic ideas there as well as reblog everything Witcher. So if you wanna come hang out or talk about stuff I'm there~)


	10. Chapter 10

The line relaxed, a warm, tingling sensation ran through his body. The ever present flame of Geralts presence that was like a beacon whenever he couldn't be seen anymore with human sight, grew brighter in his mind.

His eyes snapped open and he nearly headbutted Eskel in his haste to stand up. Before either of his companions could say anything Jaskier was off like a canon ball. He might not have known where exactly he was, but Geralts presence guided him.

He zoomed down the stairs and across the courtyard as Geralt let go of the stag and opened his arms for Jaskier to barrel into. Something primal settled as Geralt closed the embrace and sniffed his hair and Jaskier would have cried had they not had an audience.

Beside them Vesemir huffed, half amused, half exasperated. "We've only been gone for a few hours."

The arms around Jaskier tightened and Jaskier, too, tried to somehow worm his way closer, hiding his face in the crook of Geralts neck. Heavy footsteps drew near from behind.

"What in Meliteles name have you done with your bard Geralt? He's got horrible seperation anxiety."

"He's not the only one." Vesemir grumbled, casting them side glances.

Jaskier nearly broke then. Maybe the hide and seek game they were playing was doing more harm than good. He didn't want the others to worry. He opened his mouth to explain as good as he could given the mess his emotions were at the moment, but Geralt started rubbing soothing circles into his back and every thought flew out the window.

He felt the curious and judging looks they all threw them as Geralt tugged him away muttering something about not wanting to miss out on the monster lecture. Jaskier went gladly.

This time they even really studied, none of them wanting to talk about what had just happened. That of course didn't stop them from staying plastered to each others side for the rest of the day.

~~~

The time at the forge must have broken something loose. For the first time since their arrival Eskel and Lambert actually sought him out for things other than helping them with tasks. They chatted in the halls and even sometimes joined Geralt and Jaskier in the library. Which tended to derail the study session and usually ended with Geralt dragging him off to his room to teach him in silence, without nagging brothers throwing in inaccurate information, horribly dangerous suggestions for fighting techniques, embarassing tales or stupid questions.

The meetings at the forge soon turned into a ritual all its own, as well. And as Jaskier grew closer to Eskel and Lambert the two got ever more noisy. Eskel especially started throwing Jaskier unidentifiable glances. Sometimes he would stand too close and listen, or thumb over Jaskiers pulse point, when he had grabbed his wrist to guide him somewhere.

The questionings and teasing aside Jaskier enjoyed the time with just the three of them. It was nice to have someone other than Geralt to talk to every once in a while. He hadn't noticed how lonely he had been until Eskel had warmed up to him. Kaer Morhen was still a far cry from the busy streets of Oxenfurt, but it was beginning to feel more and more like a home.

The preparations for the next big pranks were put on halt as Lambert and Eskel sought out Ghost more as well. Jaskier liked playing with them in his invisible form on their own terms. Their antics got continuously more hilarious. They had set traps for him all around, mostly Yrden but also more physical ones. Nothing harmful, thankfully.

Food and drink was left for him in odd places. Things he loved to nick once he figured out where the traps lay. They talked to Ghost, too. Adressing him while they worked, calling him to see if he was there. And Jaskier would answer in his own way, tapping shoulders, throwing stones or knocking over things. When he felt especially mischievous he would occasionally mess with Eskels or Lamberts tools. Not to the point that anything could happen, of course. It was mostly either relocating or decorating them in ways that didn't degrade their usefulness. 

Whenever he announced his presence as Ghost like this they would greet him and funnily enough start to ask him questions. As if he would reveal his identity if they guessed it right.

Once or twice Jaskier dared to give Lambert a hug when he was coming down from one of his fits. Jaskier hated to witness them. They usually happened when everything got too much for the youngest wolf and he tended to have them while he was alone. Lambert always, without fail, would calm down after breaking a few things or hammering away in the forge. And it would always remind Jaskier of the way the mayors house crumbled that faithful day in Rinde. Jaskier hated those times, rare as they were, with a burning passion.

But there was no way to comfort Lambert without getting harmed in the process. Not when he was in the middle of a rage, blind to the world around him. Jaskier had learned that lesson from Geralt, although his Witcher was much more prone to sulking and brooding than shouting and throwing things. 

He had dared to try and sooth the hurt and self doubt after, though. The first time had been scary and he had only gone through with it because the crestfallen look on Lamberts face had crushed his heart. Jaskier had made sure that his footsteps were loud enough to hear, but quiet enough not to startle. Slowly he had approached him from behind. When the only response he got was a tensing of Lamberts shoulders he knelt down and hesitantly looped his arms around his friend.

After a few tense moments Lambert relaxed against his hold. The murmured "thank you" when it was all over gave Jaskier enough courage to repeat the stunt when it inevitably happened again.

With Eskel and Lambert warming up to him and Ghost in equal measures Jaskier decided that it was time to fullfill Geralts wish. The way everyones eyes lit up when he knocked on Eskels door, lute in hand, made him smile.

"I thought you'd be in need of some entertainment."

"Nah, we're good." Lambert waved at him in dismissal, but the grin he send Jaskiers way kept the bard from faltering. "Could use an additional drinking buddy though. These two light weights can't take anything."

Jaskier laughed and leant his lute against the wall close to the door, before joining the three on the floor in front of the fireplace. "Free alcohol? Not saying no to that."

The night only went downhill from there or uphill depending on who you asked. Direction was meaningless anyway when the world was spinning. Instead of the mulled wine Jaskier was used to drinking while they were relaxing in the forge he was now served Lamberts dastardly brew. An alcoholic beverage that was somewhere between pure poison and liquid fire.

Geralt immediately diluted it after Jaskiers first coughing fit, to the roaring laughter of Eskel and Lambert. The watered down brew didn't melt his insides as much, but still packed one hell of a punch. Everything after the second mug was a blur. They had been playing a rather innocent four sides version of Gwent and then Jaskier had been banned from the game, because he was too good and Lambert too butthurt to be dethroned, so he played the lute instead and sang the Fishermongers daughter and several heavily mutilated versions of Toss a Coin, with the three severly intoxicated Witchers shouting suggestions for lyrics at him.

So that had been the start. At some point there had been strip Gwent and Jaskier could remember snippets of stories and inside jokes and... Jaskier really didn't know how he ended up staggering through the halls of the keep towards Lamberts stash of bombs. He had no idea where he had gotten the amount of moondust or how the fuck he got it to where he needed it.

He did know that, in his drunken mind, the thought of mixing everything with the left over red juice from the goat prank was deemed a brilliant one.

That's when the thread of memories snapped and a gaint heap of nothing greeted Jaskier attempt to remember. He woke up to shouts that could barely be heard over the ringing in his ears. Two pairs of rough hands hoisted him up and shook him until he blinked his eyes open with much effort.

Geralt was kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders. And Eskel behind him, steadying him with hands on his waist. Over Geralts shoulder Jaskier could just about make out the shapes of Vesemir and Lambert, who were inspecting a dark smoldering spot on the ground. A rather huge spot. In the middle of the courtyard. How had he gotten outside, again? And why was it so warm? Was it spring, already?

"Jaskier! Jask. Can you hear me? Are you hurt somewhere?"

"He doesn't smell hurt." Eskel muttered, with that rough voice of his that indicated either sleepiness or a hangover. He patted down Jaskiers form anyway, just to make sure.

Jaskier wiggled and squealed when Eskel reached a ticklish spot, but he smacked his lips and tried to form words anyway. It was starting to get ridiculous. The amount of times Jaskier had been rendered incapable of speech in the last few weeks. His prolonged time as Ghost had deteriorated his communication skills quite a bit.

"Wha happnd?" he managed to slur together.

"You tell us." Vesemirs voice boomed from above them and Jaskier squinted up to see the old man standing next to them with his arms crossed. "Get him back into the keep and in front of the fire, before he catches frostbite."

"M warm." Jaskier protested weakly as Geralt swung him up and over his shoulder. A horrible idea, because his stomach did not like the new pressure on his already churning insides.

"That's what I'm worried about." Vesemir answered, not far behind them. "Lambert fetch some water. We're dealing with this mess later."

The mess, Jaskier realized once he had been sat down and emptied out his stomach into a bucket, was not only the smoldering ring of black in the courtyard. As the sun tentatively peeked over the horizon to proclaim a new day her rays caught on the millions of tiny glittery particles dusting every available surface. The explosion had been outside, but the wind had transported the stuff everywhere.

It actually looked very pretty. The stone walls shone as if they were made of some kind of rare gem and the components made tinged the flame in the hearth a striking pink. Alright the colour might have been a bit unconventional and maybe the stuff also got onto the table and cuttlery and hung to their clothes and hair, but Jaskier was still too hungover to see where that could be a problem.

Geralt snatched the mug of water from Lambert, who grumbled about having to scrub it five times before the liquid inside stopped resembling a fairy fountain and pressed it into Jaskiers shaking hands.

"You're banned from drinking from now on."

"Hng" Jaskier whined, but dutifully sipped at his water as Vesemir inspected him for injuries again. His back was a little sore and there were a few scrapes, but nothing serious.

Vesemir sat back with a huff and shook his head. "The luck of the drunk. What _have_ you been up to while I wasn't there to supervise."

The disappointment in Vesemirs tone made Jaskier want to crawl into a hole and hide. Alas, there was no hole in sight, so he opted for curling up on the floor around his tankard. Lambert nonchalantly sat down beside him and scratched at the sparkly dust on the floor. They caught each others gazes and Jaskier mouthed "I'd rather he shout and rage."

Lambert shrugged and mouthed back. "You missed that stage."

As they had their silent communication Eskel spoke up. "We were just having our usual night."

Geralt grunted in agreement. He wasn't were he should have been, in Jaskiers humble opinion. Which was at Jaskiers side. Instead he stood close to the tables, tense and with his arms crossed. Eskel had looped a hand around one of his arms to keep him from stomping off.

Jaskier curled up tighter at the display of barely contained rage and fought the urge to turn invisible and run. He'd be up for one hell of a scolding later.

"And you gave him the same stuff you were drinking I presume." Somehow Vesemir managed to sound even more disappointed.

Lambert seemed the only one unaffected by that. "We diluted the stuff. Not like we poisoned him or something."

Eyes that held centuries worth of memories in them swept over Jaskiers pitiful form with a sceptical look. "Burned away the last of his common sense at least."

"Not much to burn to begin with." Geralt growled. Eskel let him go with a sigh.

They all watched him stomp off. Jaskier was fighting back tears when dry fingers ruffles through his hair, unleashing a small cloud of sparkles.

"You two have such a weird dynamic." Lambert wondered.

"Just get him back into bed. Can't do much in the state he's in anyway." Vesemir grumbled, dismissing them.

Eskel and Lambert both helped him up and to his room, making sure he was tucked in before turning to the door.

"Geralt won't murder you in your sleep, right?" Lambert asked, earning himself a brief smack to the back of his head from Eskel.

The humour in the question was lost to Jaskier, who was staring at the ceiling with a small frown. "I don't think he'd bother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a bit of trouble writing these days, so I've cut this chapter short (sorry).
> 
> Anyway @DarkInuFan had the idea for a glitter bomb and @selectivegeekwithstandards requested covering everything in glitter, so here you go XD
> 
> There will be some angst ahead, but you know me where there's angst, fluff and comfort aren't far.


	11. Chapter 11

His head was screaming at him in multiple voices, while his slow heart had decided that now was a good time to try out that human rhythm it had forgotten how to do long ago. At this rate he would either get a heart attack or an aneurysm. What he definitely wouldn't be getting was some fucking peace of mind, apparently.

Which was the only reason why he didn't go straight back to bed. He rather stomped around the keep like a spooked horse. Or maybe a lost one. Because horses weren't allowed in the keep. Geralt would know. He had tried to smuggle Roach into his room on a few drunk occasions.

Hm. Shitty metaphor aside maybe Jaskier had a point when it came to heavy drinking. Not that Geralt would actually listen to the idiot. He was far too mad at him to more than subconsciously admit that his best friend might be right about something. Or – Melitele have mercy – actually go through with following Jaskiers advice for once.

Damn it all, he had barely even recovered from the anxiety of that fucking hunting trip! The others might have made fun of them and Vesemir especially hadn't understood Geralts frantic need to check the distance every few steps. But the thought of Jaskier collapsing somewhere and writhing in pain because Geralt hadn't been observant or careful enough... It had distracted him quite a bit that was sure.

And now this. Did Geralt really need to lock Jaskier up in a fucking tower? Or chain Jaskier to him to keep him from harming himself? No that was a bad idea, Geralt wouldn't be able to fight monsters with him close by.

Geralt rounded the corner and took the stairs up again, silently stewing. The rest of the keep was eerily silent after the loud explosion. Everyone else had gone to bed again, deeming it too early to deal with the mess Jaskier had created.

Geralt scowled at the glittering wall to his right. The whole stunt was really the epitome of Jaskier: It was a confusing mix of stupid, pretty and fucking dangerous. Dangerous most of all. For everyone and especially for Jaskier.

He had to stop in front of the bards door and held his breath to better listen to the heartbeat inside. Geralt needed every ounce of willpower to restrain himself from marching in there and-  
He didn't know. Scream at him? Try to shake some sense into him? Get into bed with him? Slot up behind him as he had done so many times before? Hold him close?

All of them. He would have probably done all of them had he gone in. And in a wildly disorganized and confusing order as well. And Jaskier would have been sick and confused and half asleep. He would have probably started crying at some point, because drunk and hangover Jaskier was even more of an emotional mess than sober one. And that would have set Geralt off again-

No. Better leave it for another time. Jaskier was safe for now. _Alive_. Despite Jaskiers best attempts. Words could be spoken later, when Geralt had figured them out and Jaskier would be more receptive. Yes. Waiting he could do. Maybe he should go talk to Roach, at least she listened to him and didn't judge... much.

~~~

Jaskier wanted to disappear more than ever before. His life was officially over. No good things for him anymore. No sir. The happiness carriage had galloped past, never to return.

Vesemir only gave them a brief window of time to get their wits together. Jaskier bemoaned that fact, but dutifully went about doing all the tasks he was being given. Mostly that meant cleaning. No one was going to touch the hallways, walls, furniture or ceiling. Trying to wash away all glitter would have taken lifetimes and then some. And honestly, while unplanned, Jaskier was quite proud of the result of his drunken stunt.

Depending on how the light hit the stone everything glimmered in hazy, mystifying pinks, blues and violets as though the whole keep was covered in a protective aura. This effect was less happiness inducing when it appeared on the surfaces of cups, plates, knifes and the like. Their clothes, too had become rather itchy with the stuff and so needed to be cleaned. The books were a lost cause. Their spines would forever have sparks imprinted on them. It didn't damage them at least, only made them look less serious and important.

Jaskier sat down with a sigh and grabbed a pair of pants from the growing pile of clothing that needed to be washed. His head was pounding from thinking too much. But he couldn't really help it. The last two days had been a disaster. Geralt was avoiding him and shooting him those looks that meant he really needed to talk but also wanted nothing more than to crawl out of the keep and set up a life somewhere as a hermit.

Vesemir was prompted into a lecture whenever the silence between the Witchers grew too loud, which only managed to make everyone even more annoyed and agitated. At least Vesemir wasn't very judgmental about Jaskiers actions. Oh, he got his fair share of lectures, but those mostly boiled down to "Don't just drink anything you're being given" and "My pups are stupid when it comes to humans, apparently. Don't trust them to be able to tell what's good for you."

He still felt as though he was walking on eggshells, all his hard work to bond with everyone else destroyed by one small, drunken misstep.

Jaskier pulled the pants he had been washing for the last half hour out of the bucket to inspect them. They were still glittery. Hm... Alright maybe not _that_ small then.

Another pile of clothes was dumped beside him, quickly followed by the clatter of various pieces of armour. The stuff had been soaking for two nights in a row. The water, saturated with ash, had been reheated over and over again with Igni. It had gotten some of the glitter out, but not enough to make the fabric less itchy.

"If you pout any harder it'll get stuck that way." Lambert snarked as he knelt down next to him, to start his own washing.

"I'm not pouting." Jaskier muttered, pouting harder.

"Right you're making face acrobatics. They look horrible, you should do the upwards frown more, that's the only move you don't suck as much at."

"Fuck off, Lambert."

"Can do that. But you'd be stuck doing the laundry alone."

To make a point Lambert grabbed the next best shirt from the pile and started scrubbing it, sending water flying everywhere. Jaskier huffed at him and focussed back on his task. Soon he found the thread of thoughts again he had entertained before Lambert had so rudely interrupted him: He felt bad.

Bad and mostly very, very guilty. Things had slowed down as the days got darker and the storms lessened. And with it the tasks dwindled and the inhabitants were given more time to relax. Sure the days were still full, what with training and the continued effort to keep Kaer Morhen in a stable, semi-habitable condition. But the days were less hectic, with evenings off and breaks in between. Jaskier had even gotten some sleep here and there, the exhaustion not as bonecrushing as it once had been.

And now Jaskier had doubled, maybe even tripled the workload for all of them. It might have been unintentional, but he understood why everyone would be angry at him.

"Man Geralt is a shitty influence on you." Lambert commented, throwing the clean shirt onto a different, much smaller pile.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Jaskier sighed, deciding to bite. He inspected his own handiwork and added it to the clean clothes. There were still some moondust particles attached to it, but those would go away over time.

"You're starting to brood just like him. Seriously the face you're making, one would think you'd taken a vow of celibacy or something."

"I nearly blew up the whole keep Lambert."

"Pfff. And? You think something like this didn't happen before you got here? Kaer Morhen was crawling with little shithead teenagers and angsty monster hunters prone to drink themselves silly when they came home from the path. Not to forget the crazy mages in the basement. Shit happened. Sure no one ever thought to add glitter to our explosions, but that's a you thing."

Jaskier perked up at the promise of another story. He had soon come to realize that Lambert was the most likely to share stories about the past. He usually talked shit about everything and everyone, his stories tinged with bitterness and anger. But the cruelty of Lamberts, of all the Witchers upbringing, really, was made bearable, even entertaining, through Lamberts snark.

"I'll need examples to believe you, I'm afraid."

The grin he was met with was downright shit eating in its nature and promised much. "Sure thing, have lots of those."

And so the rest of their time doing laundry together was filled with Lamberts very own blend of storytelling, giggles and laughter filling the silence inbetween. Slowly Jaskier relaxed. Maybe everything wasn't horrible. Maybe he could still salvage some of this mess.

He just had to talk to Geralt about it.

His resolve hardened over the mending session with Eskel that followed in the late afternoon.  
They sat side by side on Jaskiers bed, baskets of freshly dried clothes beside them and stitched holes closed together. The monotony of the task was calming and left ample opportunity to talk.  
Eskel, too, didn't hold his drunken shenanigans against him and was quick to bat down his guilt.

"We would have been bored to death by now, Jask. It's not like the added tasks are hard, just distracting." He bumped their shoulders. "No hard feelings."

And so Jaskier scrapped together the last of his courage and went to find Geralt that very evening.  
One of the upsides to Jaskiers and Geralts predicament was that Geralt couldn't hide from him for long. Jaskier knew exactly where Geralt was at all times. He had been in the courtyard while they had done laundry, probably trying to fix the hole and dark stains the explosion had left in the ground.

And at this exact moment he was pacing his room. A perfect opportunity. Or Jaskier at least he hoped so. Truth was Jaskier would rather go invisible and hide until the storm had blown over. Until Geralt sought him out on his own. Jaskier scoffed at his own naiveté.

There was no way Geralt hadn't heard him approach and yet Jaskier still felt compelled to knock. A muffled grunt was all the invitation he got as he slipped silently inside. Geralt was standing in front of the window, his back turned, shoulders nearly reaching up to his ears.

Tentatively Jaskier got closer. He desperately wanted to reach out and rub at the tense spot between Geralts shoulder blades. But he doubted his touch would be welcome. He often wondered when it would become too much for his Witcher. How much and what it would take for Geralt to finally be truly fed up with him. Jaskier was good at telling stories but he did try to be honest with himself. He _knew_ he was a troublemaker. He knew he had pulled some very questionable stunts in their time together. And he was proud of most of them.

He wondered if his last one had been the drop of water that caused the jug to spill over. If so than he might as well try and wipe down the drenched table.

"Geralt? I'm sorry."

Muscles bunched as Geralt clenched his fists. A shaky breath left him, as though he was steeling himself for this conversation. "Are you now?"

The growl made Jaskier take a subconscious step back. "I am."

"And what does it matter?"

"I-" Jaskier faltered. What did it matter? When Geralt wasn't willing to forgive him. The thought hurt, but he did understand. He really did. Kaer Morhen was Geralts home, his only sanctuary. And Jaskier had threatened it, first with his presence, making things uncomfortable and tense, and now with this.

"I don't know." He finished lamely. He really didn't know. He didn't know how to fix this, any of it. Not the decades of self loathing on Geralts side, not the disaster of the djinns wish or the fear the looming responsibility of the child surprise brought. Not the mountain and their bond, this tentative, fragile friendship bordering on more that they had carefully built up out of the rubble of their last try.

"Fuck, Jaskier you're supposed to be the emotional intelligent out of the two of us."

And the sheer frustration in that sentence made Jaskier laugh. "I'm sorry you must mistake me for Roach."

"Don't." Another growl. Geralt still had to turn to him. Jaskier started to worry the man would jump out a window any second now.

"What? What am I doing?"

"You're trying to lighten the mood! Stop that!"

"Oh. Oh sorry for not providing fodder for the correct gloomy atmosphere you require for your damn brooding." Jaskier snarked back, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward.

"This is serious, Jaskier!" bellowed, screaming his anger out of the window.

"I'm not trying to make it less serious! I'm trying to make it less tense!"

"You never take anything seriously!"

"Of course I do!"

Geralt whirled around at that, eyes momentarily widening before sniffing the room and stomping over to Jaskier. Just as Jaskier shifted to scoot a bit back Geralt reached for him, grabbing his shoulders, hands patting up and down his arms before gripping tight and giving him a good shake.

"You could have died! I don't care how nonchalant everyone else is treating this, but fuck Jaskier. Do you know how lucky you got that night? You lit five bombs. _Five_. _At the same fucking time_." At this he gave Jaskier another shake. "The only two reasons you're body parts don't currently litter the courtyard are because of the wet fuses which took longer to burn down and the fact that you replaced half the explosive powder with more glitter!"

Now wasn't that a frightening thought. "I..." What was he supposed to _say_? Sorry? That he hadn't been in his right mind? That he didn't know Geralt cared so much? Now the last one was mean, Jaskier realized that as soon as the thought had crossed his mind. But fuck the angry, furious side of him really wanted to throw out that one, cut and hurt to make his own pain feel less overwhelming.

"I didn't mean to worry you." He said instead, which earned him another violent shake.

"But you do! All the time! You never think before you act, never do what you're being told, always run head first into danger-"

"You know that's rich coming from a guy who to this day ignores his destiny and thinks the best way to kill a selkimore is to be swallowed by it!"

"They're more vulnerable on the inside!"

"That's not the point!"

"Exactly!" Geralt roared over him. "I've been trained to go into danger, for fucks sake! I know the risks."

Geralt pulled away from him, gaze softening as he looked over Jaskiers shoulder. "I just don't want to loose you."

Fuck. Fuck! That wasn't fair. How was Jaskier to stay mad when Geralt hurled something like that at him? And he had said it with such a meek voice too. As if all the fight had just left him. The last of his energy poured into that one sentence.

"You won't loose me." Jaskier placated, no use promising something he couldn't keep. He would try to be more cautious and to listen when he was told something. But he would slip up, he knew and he would continue to do things that drove Geralt up the wall, because that big oaf often didn't know what was good for him either.

It seemed to be enough. Geralt heaved a huge sigh, shoulders dropping by a small margin. "Right. And I'll make sure you get no more of Lamberts brew."

"Awww. At least let me have the mead!"

"Hm. I'll think about it."

Jaskier crossed his arms and pouted. He was a grown ass man, damn it! It wasn't his fault he couldn't stomach a Witchers brew.

Silence stretched between them as both of them mulled over what had just transpired. The air was less charged between them now, the steam let out, emotions settling back into a gentle undercurrent. Jaskier still felt pretty fucking insecure, but what else was new.

Surprisingly it was Geralt, who took up the conversation again. "Jaskier? Why don't you turn visible again? I'd... like to look you in the eyes... again."

A jolt went through Jaskier at those words. "What do you mean? I never turned invisible!"

As he said that he looked down at his hands. He saw nothing. Only the faintest of outlines that gave him a clue as to where he had put his limbs at any given time.

"Fuck I turned invisible. Right. Sure. Give me a second."

He stepped forward and willed himself to be seen again. He looked down to check if it was working. Nothing.

"Uhhh Geralt?"

"Jaskier, what's wrong?"

Oh great, now they were both panicking. "I... can't seem to turn back?"

"You- Fuck!"

It should have hurt, that Geralts first instinct would be to make for the xenovox. Jaskier had half a mind to stop him, but he didn't, remembering Geralts last conversation with her.

"Yennefer!" Geralt yelled at the little box in his hands as he started to pace up and down the room again.

Jaskier fell into step beside him, not touching, not yet, but close enough for Geralt to feel his presence.

"I said not to make a habit out of it." Yennefers voice echoed in the room after a few agonizing minutes had passed.

"Hello Witch." Jaskier greeted, needing to say something and also making sure to signal both partys that he would be part of this conversation this time.

"Bard." she drawled, pleasantly surprised. "To what do I owe the questionable honour?"

"We need your help, Yen."

Jaskier could hear Yennefers eyeroll through the xenovox. "Of course you do."

"Jaskier is stuck."

Now it was Jaskier turn to roll his eyes. Leave it to Geralt to be as uninformative as possible. He was about to open his mouth to clarify when Yennefer beat him to it.

"Stuck? As in crawled into a hole and can't get out?"

"No." Geralt scoffed as though the pure idea of it was ridiculous.

Jaskier punched him in the arm and took the xenovox from him. "Forgive him, he's a mess. What he meant to say is that I can't turn visible again."

"You could do that before?" Now she just sounded confused. Confused with a spark of curiousity.

Jaskier nodded, before remembering that Yennefer wasn't exactly in the room with them. "Yes. I'm usually able to slip in and out of visibility as I please. But I accidently turned invisible around half an hour ago? And now I can't seem to pull myself out of it."

Geralt had grabbed him and yanked him into his chest to sooth him as Jaskiers tone had gotten higher, words spilling faster the longer he went on. The hands rubbing frantically up and down his arms didn't really help, but Jaskier gave him points for trying.

"Fascinating. Tell me more. Scratch that. Tell me _everything_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really close to being done with this installment. I'm thinking one or two chapters more. But don't worry, I am already planning for the third (and probably last) part of the series.
> 
> I had honestly planned for more Angst to follow, but now I feel like I've added enough to a fic that should have been mostly light hearted anyway. (Sooorrryyy)
> 
> I'm glad I still could bring back Yennefer. She's the only voice of reason in this whole mess.


	12. Chapter 12

He was hesitant to do what Yennefer demanded. But decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. She had seemed civil enough before, when he hadn't been part of the equation.

Yennefer was a surprisingly good listener, which must have come with the profession. She needled him for more details and cut him short when he went off into a tangent, trying to hide the worst parts behind silly embelishments like he had done when he had told the story to Vesemir.

She was ruthless in her curiousity and eventually, when there was nothing more to say on his part she asked him. "How are you feeling right now?"

Jaskier blinked at the xenovox, clutched in his hands. Geralt had retreated to the bed, tracking his movements as best as he was able an unreadable look on his face.

"I'm fine?" Jaskier tried. "I mean, I'm panicking a little, of course. And maybe I'm still feeling a little uneasy, but that's nothing I haven't felt before and still this never happened."

Yennefer blew out a tired sigh over their connection. "Jaskier think. You said you had that problem before. At the very beginning. What was it you had felt then, when you first turned invisible and what did you want after, when you turned back again. Seriously how did you manage to control it so well until now?"

Jaskier shrugged, a motion lost to everyone but himself. "I just always kinda went with my gut feeling? It's like taking a poop. You don't think about it."

"Thanks for that disgusting metaphor. Now I'm asking again. How are you feeling?"

Ohhh she sounded impatient now. Jaskier retreated back to the window and leaned into the cool night air as he thought. His first weeks of invisibility had been frantic and filled with fear and the overwhelming urge to hide. His brain tried to save him from those painful memories, made them blurry. The pictures and sounds of the past evaded him like skittish rabbits running from a wolf. So it was hard to parse through the events that had lead him to be who he was now.

The room was quiet as he thought, inspecting that first time in the temple, when Geralt had started to wake up and Jaskier had panicked. He hadn't wanted for Geralt to see him.

Jaskier stared out into the darkness below. That was it, wasn't it? The trigger. As much as not being seen hurt it was also _safe_. He had unconsciously been craving the simplicity of just being Ghost. It was just so much easier. He got away with so much more. He couldn't be dismissed or left behind in that form, because he could hide his presence to the point where no one suspected he was even there.

Ghost was immune to rejection. Immune to conflict and painful conversations and emotions spilling over. Being Ghost had somehow turned into his sanctuary. Well, more like a twisted, precarious, half frayed safety net. But nevertheless he had craved some form of security for a while now, through all the new experiences and acquaintances. Through the tests and chores and training. The everlasting judgements of his person had taken its toll.

He was tired.

"I feel... I feel like I want to disappear." He whispered, for once ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Geralt.

"Why?" Yennefer pried, not one to shy away from hard topics, pushing forward rather than away when it came to conflict. Maybe she wasn't as emotionally inept as he had thought.

"It's easier when I'm not being seen. I can still interact with people, but I'm more or less free of their judgement. I'm not close enough for them to hurt me."

"Jaskier-"

"Shut up Geralt and let me talk." Yennefer sniped at him. "I've not thought of you as a coward before, bard."

Jaskier bristled at that. "I'm not! I'm just tired!"

"Then sleep! Go to your room. Calm down, get some you time. Stop being a dramatic bitch and get your shit together."

Jaskier huffed at the xenovox, tempted to just throw it out the window. "Thank you for your sage advice. How much will that be?"

It was meant to be sarcastic, but Yennefer was quick to latch onto his offer. "You and Geralt will visit me first thing in the spring. I want to see for myself what you can do. After that I'll decide."

With that the xenovox clicked, signaling the end of that conversation. With a long suffering sigh Jaskier stood and sat it on the nightside table. Geralt still sat where he had been before, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

"Jaskier, if Kaer Morhen is too much-"

"No. No Geralt. It's fine, really. I love it here. The last year has just been... unkind. As much as I hate to admit it, Yennefer is probably right. I've been running around with barely any time for myself. I just need to calm down a little."

Geralt didn't look convinced, deep lines of worry marring his forehead. Jaskier approached him with a soft, fond smile and bend down to kiss the deepest one of them, feeling proud as his best friend leaned into the touch.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning." he promised. To his relief, Geralt nodded.

"Good night, Jask."

Jaskier smiled. "Good night, dear wolf."

Back in his own room Jaskier immediately felt how a huge chunk of weight tumbled from his shoulders. He hadn't noticed how stressful the whole confrontation with Geralt had been. Something inside of him always feared for their continued friendship. As unreasonable as that fear sometimes seemed. Especially now with Geralt acting so soft towards him.

Keeping himself busy with feeding the fire he tilted his head at the flames in thought, poking them and watching the sparks fly. It was soothing, being on his own again after so long, without having to worry about food or shelter. He hadn't much appreciated that fact up until now and his swirling thoughts slowly settled, head clear for the first time in months.

He took deep breaths, counting the seconds as he held them and blew them out. In for three, hold for three, out in three, hold. Up the number. Until he got to ten seconds at every instance, holding his belly to feel the air flow. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It was a good excercise. One every bard worth their salt new and used to train their lungs. Breathing and scales where the most important warm ups for the voice. And they had the added bonus of calming nerves. It wasn't exactly meditation, but it might as well have been for Jaskier.

As his mind and body relaxed his heartbeat kicked back into gear, slow and sluggish at first and then going back to an acceptable, healthy speed. And Jaskier took that as his sign to finally go to sleep. The room wasn't exactly warm, but the fire would keep him from freezing. He buried himself under the blankets and furs, wrapping them around him until nothing but his nose and some tuffs of his hair were still visible.

He skipped breakfast the next day and got back to staring into the fire of his hearth, trying to get his thoughts and emotions in order.

Silence and solitude didn't suit him, though. It didn't take long for him to get restless. So he stood and moved, gathering his lute and notebook to keep himself busy. It had been a while since he had composed. The last pages of his journal where full of scratched out lyrics detailing the various animals of Kaer Morhen.

As he went over them and tried out some tunes the uneasy feeling that had haunted him for the last weeks made way for excitement. His craft always did that to him, made him forget his worries and shrunk his world down until only the melody and the words were left. He wondered where he could play a song like this. If he could get away with playing it in taverns or if he should write it as an inside joke for the people in Kaer Morhen. Eskel at least would appreciate it. And maybe he could even coax a smile from Vesemir.

Outside the wind howled and clouds piled on top of each other. Thankfully there was neither hail nor snow, which meant everyone would have a slow day and no one would need to climb the roofs to free them of the white plague.

The darkness made it impossible to tell the time. And Jaskier was too absorbed in his task to notice much of anything anyway. Occasionally he had to get up to feed the fire, but he was barely aware of these instances. His stomach was quiet. Basic human needs forgotten while he plunged deeper into his creative mind.

There was nothing but him and his music. Until that changed. Jaskier threw his notebook away in shock as his door banged open and Eskel barged in.

"Jask-" Yellow eyes widened and Eskels mouth dropped open. "Motherfu-! The _one_ time I don't knock!" In a whirlwind of motion he turned around again and sprinted down the corridor. "Lambert! Get your ass here you won't believe this!"

Jaskier had stood up and blinked at the empty doorway, face scrunched up in utter confusion before he made to deposit his lute safely on the bed and saw his arm. It was flickering in and out of existance in lazy beats. Jaskier stared at it for just a moment, before he too was out the door with a curse.

His instinct immediately carried him to Geralts room. Geralt stood rooted to the spot in front of the window, eyes fixed on the door Jaskier had just thrown open. He looked tired and tense, but alert as Jaskier advanced upon him.

Geralt barely had time to open his arm and braze for the impact as Jaskier threw himself at him. "Jaskier, what's wrong?"

Jaskier watched the hand, that had fisted itself in Geralts shirt flicker wildly, staying longer in the invisible state.

"Eskel saw me. Fuck he's getting Lambert I should hide! Geralt where should I hide?! Ack you drilled this into me the first week, but-"

"Jaskier calm down." Geralt whispered into his hair, hands rubbing along Jaskiers back with a bit too much force, pressing Jaskier into his chest a little too tight with every stroke. "It'll be fine. You don't need to hide at all."

Geralts reassuring rumble was what gave him the final push. For a long time Jaskier had balanced on a knifes edge, not knowing whether he should jump down to the left or the right, be Jaskier or Ghost. He had swayed from one side to the other never firm in his decision. But now he jumped, flickering once, twice as his resolve hardened. He gripped his insecurities by the neck and wrangled them down, now awake and strong enough to do so.

He felt Geralts sigh of relief ruffle through his hair and used the opportunity to snuggle closer. The scent of horse, leather and onion enveloped him like a warm blanket and the skin of Geralts neck under his lips felt heavenly. It all made him nearly forget what the whole ruckus had been about.

Reality was quick to remind him. Heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor, followed by a door opening and being thrown shut again. Some cursing ensued and then more footsteps drawing closer and closer towards Jaskiers current location.

Geralt was quick to pull Jaskier out of their embrace and behind him, contradicting his earlier words. He let out a warning growl as Eskel and Lambert skitted to a stop in the doorway.

Jaskier couldn't help but flicker again, confidence effectively shattered by the tension in the room. His little, unconscious trick made Lambert squawk in surprise and Eskel grin.

The two inched closer, but Geralt kept firmly between them and Jaskier, stance defensive and apparently ready for a fight. Eskels gaze settled on Geralt and Jaskier took a hasty step back. Just in time, too. Eskel to launched himself at Geralt with an excited "You fucker knew!" and in seconds the two were engaged in a fistfight on the floor, Jaskier jumping back further to avoid any of the flailing limbs.

It was his mistake, really, because as soon as he was far enough away from Eskel and Geralt, Lambert used his chance to swoop in and throw him over his shoulder. Jaskiers surprised shout got Geralts attention immediately, his growl overruled by Lamberts cheerful "Got him!"

"Lambert! Let him go!" Geralt yelled back, getting up to sprint after them, but was easily intercepted by Eskel, who pushed him back into the room with a weak Aard.

"Geralt!" Jaskier squeaked, earning him a cackle from his kidnapper. "Lambert let me go!" Jaskier cursed at him next, wriggling and squirming to somehow worm out of the grip the youngest Witcher had on him.

Lambert wouldn't have any of it, only tightening his hold and speeding up. It didnt' take long for them to get back to Jaskiers room, where Jaskier was thrown to the ground and quickly pinned down.

Lamberts heavy weight pressed him into the big bear fur Jaskier had laid down in front of the fireplace, his hands placed securily around Jaskiers wrists. It would have been a very sexy position if it had just been Geralt on top of him. Although Jaskier wished that Geralt would bestow the same kind of feral grin on him that Lambert had on his face at the moment. It was scary as fuck, but damn if his dick wasn't at least a little interested.

Fuck the several months of abstinence in a shell of a fortress in the middle of nowhere really dragged his mind into the gutter. Thankfully Lambert didn't catch onto his faint arousal. That would have been embarassing. And Jaskier was determined to make it stay that way. He shot Lambert a small, crooked smile.

"Uhhh. I can explain?"

"Fuck yes you will. Fucking bitch, eating all the snacks and hording all the silk without telling anyone."

Jaskier blinked up at him, brain trying and failing to make sense of Lamberts sentence.

"I what now?"

Lambert scoffed down at him. "You're the fucking ghost." he spelled out, slowly, as if talking to a toddler. Not that Lambert had probably ever talked to a little child before. Jaskier would have been offended hadn't he been so lost.

Jaskier nodded, confusion scrunching up his face.

"That means you got the food we set out for Ghost. But more importantly: You are responsible for that goat prank."

Another pause and another hesitant nod from Jaskier. Lambert looked satisfied with the answer, grinning down at him, an unsettling glint in his eyes. It took Jaskier an embarassing amount of time to piece together the rest of the puzzle.

"Do you... want to have some? I don't have much with me now, Geralt said that fancy clothes aren't of much use here, so I left most of what I own in Oxenfurt. But I do have some with me."

Lambert made an excited noise and got off him, eagerly hoisting Jaskier up. Still feeling wrong footed Jaskier staggered towards his chest and pulled out several garments, mostly wintergear, but also some less functional clothing that he had brought more for comfort than anything else.

As they sat down next to each other on the floor and sorted through Jaskiers stuff, Jaskier couldn't help but ask.

"You're not angry at me?"

"Nah."

Jaskier didn't trust Lamberts nonchalance one bit. But he wasn't exploding in his face, the rage Jaskier had witnessed from him in other instances absent. And he hadn't drawn his dagger yet either, so Jaskier was positive that he was safe, at least for now.

Geralt and Eskel stumbled into the room much later, dishevelled, bruises blooming on pale skin and two nicely split lips. Lambert and Jaskier both waved at them, Jaskiers room looking by now like a tailors shop with clothes, ribbons and thread strewn all over the place. He was currently weaving a yellow ribbon up Lamberts right arm, designing a simple pattern that wouldn't hinder Lamberts range of movement. They had discussed what Lambert could take with him on the road that wouldn't be impractical. And this is what they had come up with. This way Lambert could revel in the feeling of the fine cloth against his skin and still wear his armour and gloves.

Their arrangement earned them a raised eyebrow from Geralt and a knowing smile from Eskel, who didn't hesitate to join them, bumping shoulders with Jaskier as he did.

"This was not what I was expecting."

Jaskier shrugged at Geralt, reaching out a hand and beckoning him closer. Eskel and Lambert might not be hostile towards him at the moment, but he still felt safer with Geralt at his side.  
Geralt didn't need to be told twice, sitting down crosslegged next to Jaskier and looking him over as though checking for any injuries.

"So now that we are all gathered here, how about you two tell us what the fuck is going on?" Eskel opened up the conversation, sounding far too cheerful for it to be entirely genuine.

Jaskier squinted at him in suspicion, but a tug from Lambert made him focus back on the task at hand. Tying off the ends into a neat little bow he reached for the second ribbon and repeated the process on Lamberts other arm.

"Vesemir isn't here yet." Lambert pointed out, flexing the hand that was already bound.

"Vesemir knows." Geralt said, tilting his head and Jaskier had to fight the grin that threatened to invade his face. His favourite Witcher was just as fascinated by the silk ribbon as Lambert, tracking the way the light reflected off of it.

"Of course the fucker knows!" Lambert groaned. "Alright spill the beans then, what is this little weed here supposed to be?"

"Hey!"

"He's human."

Jaskier had the sense to keep his mouth shut. Content for now to watch Eskel and Lambert starve on the few scraps of information Geralt was willing to dish out. He loved that little smirk Geralt wore as he barely answered the question. It always spelled trouble and it was the most beautiful thing Jaskier had ever seen in his life.

"Bullshit!"

"I think we need to be drunker for this." Eskel mumbled and stood.

"No alcohol for Jaskier."

"Not fair!"

"..." Geralt tried to stare Jaskier down, but his stoic parenting look had never worked on Jaskier before and it didn't do anything now either.

"Geraaaalt." Jaskier, however, knew exactly what buttons to push. He leaned forward, still holding the two ends of the ribbon, and laid his chin on Geralts shoulder, brushing his nose against Geralts jawline. "Please~"

Heaving a long suffering sigh his favourite Witcher caved. "A little alcohol for Jaskier. No moonshine, though."

Eskel snorted and gave them a little mock salute. He came back shortly after Jaskier was done with decorating Lambert, carrying a tray with mugs and various bottles, distributing them evenly around the inhabitants of the room. Jaskier got half a mug of mulled wine, but was delighted to find that it had been spiced with rum.

It was truly ironic, once Jaskier actually was part of the bonding nights he refused to not get drunk. Eskel had told him that Witchers very rarely got their hands on enough alcohol to get drunk. And it was even rarer that they found themselves in a place they deemed safe enough to actually indulge in it. Winter was really the only time they could let loose and enjoy themselves in ways that most humans could experience on a regular basis. After finally having an explanation for the ritual nights Jaskier had let up his pranks that had been intended to stop them from drinking so much and instead had switched to encourage them to relax and have fun.

Not to mention that he would need the fake confidence the alcohol gave him to survive this conversation.

He let Geralt lead for a while, content to quip in once or twice to add some detail when Lambert started to get too impatient. But then came the questions and there was only so much Geralt was willing to talk, so Jaskier took over. Neither mentioned the mountain incident, or described the time Jaskier trailed behind Geralt unseen and unheard. Both felt that their struggles from that time were their own. Only Yennefer really knew more than the bare bones of the story and this was only the case because they had needed her advice.

Jaskier saw that both knew that he and Geralt held back a huge bulk of the tale, but they didn't pry much. The looks he got told him that he would probably be cornered later on, though. Bloody noisy Witchers.

As the night progressed Eskel and Lambert wringed more and more stories of Geralts and Jaskiers travels out of him. They had never really been interested before, always assuming Jaskier just stayed behind in the taverns, singing and composing while Geralt killed the monster of the day. Sure Jaskier had some scars of his own, but surely those had been mistakes. Monster hunting always lead to some surprising scenarios and everyone in the room knew how fast some of those hunts could escalate beyond the calculated scales. They were shocked, outraged and intrigued to find that no, Jaskier did not, in fact, leave Geralt to hunt on his own, mostly because he just wouldn't stay put.

Vesemirs intense training suddenly made so much more sense to them.

Geralts hand had found its home on Jaskiers tight at some point during the night, rubbing the soft flesh beneath the rough fabric there. He had taken up the part of the silent listener once more. Nodding and humming along, only occassionately correcting Jaskier in his storytelling.

Lambert shook his head during a lull in their conversation. "I don't understand. How have you two not fucked yet?"

Eskel toasted to that, draining his tankard in one gaint gulp. "What he says."

Jaskier squeaked "How would you know?!"

"Please, you never reeked of sex once while you were here. I know Geralt and he doesn't have that kind of self control."

"Hmhm had a foursome with him and some dryads once. He's not shy."

Jaskier opened his mouth to ask further, but didn't get anywhere before Geralts hand effectively sealed his lips shut. Jaskier glared at him while Geralt glared at Eskel, who just looked smug at that point.

"We are not like that." Geralt said that, but still tugged at Jaskier until he was comfortably seated in his lap, ignoring the sharp pinpricks of pain that came from his feral bard gnawing at his hand.

They got some unimpressed stares, focus diverted when Jaskier tried to pry the limb from his mouth with both hands to no avail. A peaceful fog had entered everyones minds a while ago, courtesy of the alcohol. The haze making it easy to get distracted by movement and noise. And Jaskier was a very productive factory of both those goods, squirming and struggling in Geralts hold and emitting small, enraged growls and whines.

"I don't know..." Eskel started tentatively, still deeply entranced by Jaskiers show. "You two already act like an old married couple."

"And there's a whole lot of sexual tension between you two." Lambert added, idly playing with the bow on his left arm.

Eskel nodded, slouching forward to rest his head on his hands, bent into a position that couldn't be very comfortable. "You visit brothels together for Meliteles sake."

"Yeah! You share baths, beds and prostitutes! On a regular basis! Fuck, Jaskier even insulted a goddess for you." Lambert looked off into the distance for a bit there, a stupid smile on his face. "Aiden and I started out like that as well and we started to fuck a week later."

Finally Geralt relented and let go of Jaskier, who only huffed in annoyance, red in the face and panting. His head was spinning a little, the mug of wine hadn't been the only one, and the conversation wasn't one he really wanted to contribute to, even if he really would have loved to know more about Lamberts relationship with Aiden. Because fuck if Jaskier didn't want what they had.

It clearly wasn't _his_ fault Geralt and him hadn't jumped each others bone(r)s yet! The stars knew Jaskier had made it very clear where his loyality and affections lay. The stars, prostitutes and probably at least half the population of the bloody continent. Jaskier knew for a fact that rumours of his "witchersexuality" were one of the favourite subjects of debate among his professors in Oxenfurt. And his unfortunate predicament was the source for much teasing from Valdo and Essi whenever they crossed paths per chance.

So he flopped back against Geralts chest and turned sideways, tugging his nose into the crook of Geralts neck and tried to just go to sleep. He was done with this day and conversation. Seriously couldn't he get a freaking break in this mess of a fortress?

Geralt patted his hair like he would Roachs neck, one arm looping around his form to keep him upright. "It's complicated."

Two eyebrows went up, eyes swaying towards Jaskiers curled up form, cosily nesting in Geralts arms, a picture that wasn't unfamiliar to them anymore.

Eskel shook his head, praying to Melitele herself to have mercy on these idiots. "Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The reveal! (And more cuddles). There's probably going to be one more chapter after this and then I'll be off to work on Part 3 XD
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kudos and the lovely comments! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I'm on vacation and didn't get around to writing much. (Also the internet is shitty) ><

Vesemir took one look at them all in the morning and immediately knew what had went down the night before. Geralt still didn't know how he did it, maybe being grandmaster of the keep gave him special powers. He had always known whenever Geralt or the other boys had gotten into trouble in the past, too.

Ignoring Vesemirs disapproving "You let him drink again.", Geralt sat down at the table, too caught up in his own, racing thoughts. Eskels and Lamberts insistant questions had overwhelmed him completely. There was a certain logic behind their arguements that Geralt couldn't shake off. And yet. There was something that held him back from completely acknowledging them as the truth.

It _was_ complicated ...Wasn't it?

He looked over to Jaskier, who perched on his seat beside him, fresh faced and grinning. Geralt had carried him to bed when his brothers had decided to call it a night, disappearing together down the corridor. It had taken every bit of willpower Geralt had left to tuck Jaskier in and go back to his own room.

And now Jaskier sat too far away for Geralts liking. He wanted to touch, needed the reassurance that his best friend was really there. Their fight had... scared him. More so when it had become apparent that Jaskier couldn't change back. It was a painful reminder that neither of them actually really knew what was going on. That there was a very real possibility of loosing Jaskier, maybe not fully but in nearly all the aspects that mattered.

The clang of a coin purse hitting wood pulled him out of his head and into the present. Geralt furrowed his brow at the small, but heavy leather bag sitting innocently on the table and then wandered up to Vesemir.

"It's the betting pool." Vesemir answered his unspoken question. "I figured we'd spread the money between Jaskier and me."

"Why? No one guessed right." Geralt grumbled. He really wanted his coin back. He had maybe gone a bit over the top with the amount he had thrown in.

"Of course you had a fucking betting pool!" Lambert groaned.

"Jaskier was the closest to estimating the time and I guessed right, who would figure it out first."

"They didn't figure out shit. Eskel walked in on Jaskier."

Vesemir shrugged not caring for the grumpy glare his charge threw at him. "Still counts."

"I'm fine with it." Jaskier piped up. The traitor.

"You just want the money."

The grin Jaskier gifted him with was dazzling. And rare, given that it was the asscrack of dawn and his bard wasn't exactly a morning person.

"True, but we both know I'll spend it for the both of us anyway."

Fuck Geralt wanted to kiss him. No. No! Damn his brothers, planting hope inside his chest. Giving him ideas. He couldn't just charge forward with that. Not with Jaskier in a condition they didn't know much about. And not while Geralt was still attached to Yennefer. Well technically he was attached to both of them now...

Hm.

"You'll spend it on silly outfits, trinkets and wine. Don't lie."

"I'll have you know those silly outfits make up half of my profession! And there is no shame in indulging yourself every once in a while! Really. You act as though you never drink from the bottles I buy or use the soaps and oils..."

"Oh for fucks sake will you stop bickering like an old married couple and fuck it out already?!"

Two sets of wooden plates were thrown at Lamberts head, one evaded and the other, sadly, caught. Remnants of the breakfast sludge splattered over the table nonetheless, Lambert cackling all the while.

Eskel sighed, shaking his head and wiping a drop of porridge from his cheek. "Geralt be nice to your bard or I'm taking him."

"Jaskier, Geralt, you're on cleaning duty."

"But Lambert started it!"

~~~

It still amazed Jaskier how well Eskel and Lambert had taken the reveal of his little secret. Geralts brothers didn't treat him any different, if you didn't factor in the upped amount of teasing and sneaky questions. The days had slowed down considerably as the first warm breeze in ages set in, melting the first layer of the mountains of snow. It came close to something Jaskier would almost call domestic. Normal. A routine finally settling in after what felt like the most turbulent winter Jaskier had ever experienced.

There had to be a catch. He knew his Witchers well enough by now to know some form of retaliation would come. Jaskier was sure of it.

Only that surety melted away just like the snow outside with every day going by in peace. Vesemir gave it two more weeks until the Killer was passable again for Witchers, horses and humans alike. That is if they wouldn't be any sudden changes in weather. So everyone was preparing for another cruel year on the Path.

Geralts and Jaskiers study lessons shifted from monster anatomy to mastering control of Jaskiers new abilities. And now that Eskel and Lambert knew why Vesemir had worked Jaskier so hard, they too decided to give him lessons.

Eskel switched from showing him sword techniques to showing him how to be sneaky and use a dagger. Jaskier enjoyed the throwing lessons the most, to the immense pleasure of Eskel, who despite his seemingly endless well of patience, had grown quite tired of the bards whining. They made a competition out of it and then added reciting poetry to each other while concentrating on the throws, synching them with the rhythms of the rhymes. Jaskier might have cheated once or twice, making stuff up on the spot to cover up his faltering speed.

Lambert sometimes joined them, showing Jaskier neat intimidation tricks. During the day, when everyone was busy and no one was looking, Lambert would take him down to the basement, where he had built his very own, secret alchemy lab. It mostly consisted of barrels full of not yet fully developed alcohol, several cauldrons and a stack of parchments tugged safely away in a nook with a heavy stone on top to keep them from fluttering off should there ever an unfortunate explosion happen.

Two small chests lined one wall, full with ingredients. Which he explained to Jaskier guiding him through the process of how to make safe bombs without accidently blowing up the keep. Although he promised to teach him how to experiment with the different components when he had gained an advanced level of knowledge. Jaskier couldn't wait for those lessons.

Vesemir had let him slack off more in turn, seeing how the others had taken over "raising" him. And despite now technically having four teachers Jaskier found himself with more freetime, being allowed to call the lessons or training off when he felt everything becoming too much.

He and Vesemir would still occasionally find each other in the kitchen or the library, exchanging stories, napping and cooking together. Although the napping tended to be an accident, starting out as a quiet reading session with both of them falling asleep on one point or another.

Jaskiers highlight of the day was always nightime, though. Their rounds had become calmer. Vesemir now joining them more often than not. He had told them it was to keep an eye on them, but Jaskier was sure the grandmaster of the keep sought them out more and more because winter was drawing to a close. Jaskier understood. He, too, wanted to make the most of the time they still had together.

With all of them gathered around the fireplace of the day, Jaskier would take out his lute and songbook and perform for them. Usually he would do so, sitting in Geralts lap with hot hands burning on his hips, the alcohol making his favourite Witcher more openly affectionate. And Vesemir would ask him for old songs, older than even he was. From times where elves roamed the earth without fear and dragons still ruled the sky.

Jaskier was always happy to deliver.

When his part was over and his throat scratchy from overuse, Jaskier would pick their brains and jot down lyrics and ideas, warm laughter and excited shouts gradually lulling him to sleep.

Always, without fail, he would find himself waking up in his bed, covered neatly with blankets. But, sadly, sans Geralt.

They had a little more than one week left before the snow would have retreated enough for them to leave again. Jaskier was deep in dreamland, warm, safe and happy after one such night... When suddenly cold spikes rammed into his body and a heavy weight pinned him to the mattress, an icy wetness soaking through his blankets and nightshirt attacking the vulnerable skin underneath.

His eyes flew open, an unholy screech echoing through the keep, drowning out Eskels and Lamberts laughter, as he fought to scramble out from under the pile of soggy snow.

"Motherfucking- Bastards!" Jaskier shrieked, launching himself at the next best moving target.

Lambert was fast enough to flee, but Eskel wasn't as lucky. A surprisingly fast bard barreled into him and had him pinned to the floor in seconds, snarling and cursing in his face. Jaskiers hands were dangerously high up on Eskels shoulders, as though he hadn't quite decided whether he should strangle Eskel or not.

At any other time Jaskier would have been proud of himself. After all he had managed to overwhelm _Eskel_. And the surprised, proud look in those wide honey coloured eyes told him that it hadn't been a staged win either.

Right now, though, he was furious and seconds away from bashing Eskels head into the stone floor.

"What's going on here?"

Jaskier snarled a second time, too angry and brain still too sleep addled to form any real words. Of course Geralt would interrupt him.

"You're songbird's gone feral again." Eskel replied in a calm, bemused tone that send Jaskiers blood boiling even more. He was shivering by now, his grip weakening as the tiredness of an early morning caught up with him. Eskel easily bucked him off, looped an arm around Jaskiers middle, picked him up and threw him at a confused Geralt before dashing out the door.

Fuming Jaskier squirmed in Geralts hold, who tried to keep him steady so he wouldn't drop his puffed up songbird.

"Easy Jask. Whatever they did, you can get revenge later." Finally Geralt was able to get a good hold on the struggling human in his arms and gently lowered him to the ground, only letting go when naked feet touched the warm stone tiles. "Hey why are you wet?"

Jaskier sniffed and started stripping, waving his hand at the bed, which was by now so wet that the snow dripped onto the rug below.

"Fuckers are going to pay." Jaskier growled, throwing on a spare tunic and aggressively janking up some pants before huddling close to the fire.

"Hm..." Geralt carefully inched closer and when Jaskier didn't explode in his face and just silently stewed while glaring the fire into submission he sat down next to him. Waiting. No way was he touching Jaskier when he was this livid. He didn't have a death wish. "I could help you with that."

Blazing blue eyes targeted Geralt and made heat raise in his stomach. "Would you?"

"Gladly."

His "enthusiasm" was rewarded with an ice cold body shamelessly seeking out Geralts warmth. Jaskier gladly melted into the by now familiar embrace and buried his frosty nose into Geralts shoulder. He breathed through the worst of his rage and used the rest to plot his revenge.

"You won't be able to sleep in that until it's been dried." Geralt pointed out just as Jaskier had thought of a perfect oneliner to deliver to Lambert and Eskel after seeing them trapped in one of his pranks he hadn't fully outlined yet.

His mind screeched to a halt at the implication hidden in that observation. Determined Jaskier pressed a little closer, delighted when arms tightened nearly painfully around him. "You'll have to make room in your bed for me then."

He felt Geralt swallow, hesitate, one heart beat, two, three, four... A nod. Jaskier smiled. "Wonderful. Don't you dare kick me off the edge again."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Alright maybe Eskel and Lambert weren't total shitheads. But fuck them if they thought they could get away with this.

The war was on again.

~~~

The remaining week at the keep was... eventful, to say the least. Eskel and Lambert had teamed up to take revenge for all the pranks that had been played on them and Jaskier and Geralt joined forces to thwart them on every turn and dish out some new pranks of their own.

It wasn't official, but everyone knew that Vesemir was secretly keeping score, although no one knew what kind of rating system he used to mark their efforts.

True to his word Jaskier was welcomed into Geralts bed every night. It was different than when they had been on the road now. More intimate and yet more chaste as well. Jaskier felt Geralt hesitate with every touch that brushed bare skin or could potentially change the status quo of their fragile equilibrium.

Jaskier was just as hesitant. He knew one hundred percent what he wanted and how he felt for Geralt, despite all the ups and downs in their relationship. But he didn't want to force Geralt to make or accept a move he wasn't ready to do yet. He may have been forceful in his youth, but years on the road with Geralt taught him (slightly) better manners. And well, Geralt didn't respond to being pushed well.

He did, however, encourage every daring touch. He leaned into every almost brush of lips, gleefully participated in tender nose rubbings and never once shied away from Geralts morning wood.

The atmosphere between them was a weird mix between domestic and charged. They whispered cunning plans to humiliate Geralts brothers into each others ear, while holding back the urge to jump each other.

More than once they almost kissed, lips brushing against ears and cheeks instead almost by accident. It was the sweetest torture Jaskier had ever known and he gladly suffered through it.

"Hey fuck where are my ribbons?! Jaskier!"

"They where my gift I can take them whenever I want!"

"Now Jaskier that was mean. You'll make him cry at this rate." Geralt said, the smile on his lips betraying his contentment.

He was perched on a wooden beam in one of the bigger rooms that had a fireplace in the middle of it. Jaskier wondered what it once had been. Maybe a bedroom for the older Witchers. Or maybe something like a lecture hall. He hadn't found the time to ask Geralt yet.

"You helped tie them to the flagpole." Jaskier shot back.

He had gone invisible again and was stood next to the fireplace, letting the smoke dampen his scent. His yelling had of course attracted Lambert, who stormed into the room without looking left or right. A huge mistake. One point from the score board.

Lambert skidded to a halt somewhere in the middle between fire and door and lifted his head to smell out his environment. Jaskier grinned as he saw Lamberts eyes widen. Above his little brother stood Geralt and with a wave tipped a bucket full of steaming liquid over the youngest wolf.

"What the fuck!"

Lamberts cursing was muted by the bucket that went sailing right after the flood, landing perfectly on Lamberts head and enraging him even more.

"You always complain about the cold, so we wanted to warm you up." Geralt shrugged, wiping his hands on his pants.

"And you're always so angry, so we thought a bit of calming tea would do you good."

Jaskier sang, running by his furious friend just as Geralt pounced and started what would most likely be a very unfair brawling match. He was just close enough to hear Lambert scream. "Tea goes into your belly you stupid fucks!"

On his way out Jaskier easily avoided the rope trap, but as he rounded the corner a small sack of flour was pushed in his direction with Aard and exploded in his face, making him sneeze and cough. Before he could make a move to escape from the cloud he saw the telltale purple flash of Yrden and froze.

Eskel sauntered up to him with a grin, quickly tied him up with another rope and threw Jaskier over his shoulder.

Jaskier gave a few half hearted wriggles, knowing when he had lost. "That was cheating."

"I don't think so. If you get to play as Ghost we can use our signs."

"Fair. And whatever will you do with your poor defenseless captive now?"

Eskel laughed at him and Jaskier wished he wasn't dangling down Eskels back. His ass was nice too, but he loved seeing Eskel smile.

"Kitchen Duty."

Nevermind. Fuck Eskels smile. He deserved to burn in the Eternal Fire or something.

That night Jaskier slipped into Geralts room first, arms heavy from hours of kneading dough. All he wanted was to throw himself on the bed and sleep for the next, eh, three days, at least. Thankfully he didn't listen to his urges and sat down like a normal person to get rid of his boots, because the hard bump one of his hands found in the bedding would have surely broken his spine.

With a frown Jaskier abandoned his mission to free his feet of their leathery prison and threw the blankets off the bed. There, sitting innocently in the middle of the mattress, was an oddly shaped iron rod, thinner tip, but widening at the base with what looked like a plug at the end. There was a note tied to it.

Horror filled his being as the shape finally clicked in his mind, the pictures his wild imagination brought up making even him blush. Without touching the toy he snatched up the small card. He didn't want to know what it said, could pretty much guess it at this point. But his curiousity won out in the end, like always.

The card unfolded, within a short line in neater handwriting than Jaskier had expected.

_A gift in case Geralt still refuses to rail you at the end of winter. - L_

Bloody, meddling Witchers. He was still staring at the object when Geralt came in, the fire in the hearth gone down to embers.

Jaskier saw Geralt give him and then the object on the bed a curious glance, before sidestepping the statue of a bard and taking care of the fire first.

"What is this about?"

Jaskier waved the note at him and continued staring blankly into space. He only came back from the rollercoaster of his thoughts when he heard Geralt crumbling up the paper. He looked up just in time to see it being thrown into the newly rekindled flames.

Geralt shuffled his feet on the spot, shoulders rising as he avoided meeting Jaskiers gaze by looking at the afront to human biology on the bed.

"That's not safe to use." he muttered, voice cracking oddly at the word "use".

"Wasn't planning to."

Geralt glared at the piece of metal as though it had personally offended his mother. Or rather Vesemir. Jaskier was pretty sure Geralt had no love left for the parents that had left him to the wolves.

"It would hurt you." He growled and he fought with each word and lost every battle, clearly not saying what he wanted to say. Jaskier could nearly see Geralts cogs turning, the tension in the room rising.

"I know." Jaskier placated him. He wouldn't have used it anyway. Not as anything else but maybe a bookend. Most probably as a mock gift to Valdo Marx.

"Hng."

Jaskiers hand twitched, wanting to sooth the distressed lines appearing on Geralts face. And Geralt moved. Inching closer to the bed and grabbing the offending piece of smithery as though it was a snake ready to strike.

He put it on the now much emptier shelf and then turned back to Jaskier, approaching him with sure steps, his expression suddenly determined.

Jaskier let himself be embraced, reciprocating like it was second nature to him. His thoughts settled and he closed his eyes when Geralts nose nuzzled into the side of his head close to his ear.

"You don't need it." Geralt tried to explain, the dark, desperate rumble turning Jaskiers knees into putty. "If you want I..."

"Have you decided now, dear?"

"I think." A pause. Geralt tilted his head so that their noses were touching, breath mingling. Jaskier went cross-eyed to be able to see the intense golden gaze burning into him.

"I want." Geralt whispered against his lips, uncertain and vulnerable.

It shouldn't have been good enough. Jaskier knew they were setting each other up for more heartbreak. And still once more Jaskier trusted them both to figure it out as they went. They might be a mess, but they were a loyal, ever evolving mess. This might be a big mistake in the long run. Neither of them knew. But Jaskier was certain that they would both learn from it regardless. And come out of it stronger and at least still friends.

For now he got permission. And he had no qualms about taking the lead from here on out.

"Kiss me then."

And that Geralt did. It was more gentle than Jaskier had expected, the distance close enough to breach without rush. Small kisses slowly turned into longer, deeper ones, both of them exploring each other, testing, watching, looking for signs of what the other liked or not.

There was no heat yet, that would come later. They had decided and both of them were stubborn enough to hold each other to that. They had time. For now. For a brief moment. They had time. And they would use it well. That night, they would be thorough.

~~~

It was the afternoon on the next day that they came down in search for food, both looking as pristine as ever. They had finished their... sessions... with a bath, drawing patterns over wet skin and massaging sore spots while cramming into a wooden bathtub that was far too small for two grown men.

Geralt had spread out like a starfish, arms and feet dangling over the edges, while Jaskier had carefully straddled Geralts waist, leaning forward to rest his forehead against his lover. Cleaning up had been a bit of an adventure like that, but neither had wanted to give up the closeness yet.

As they looked into the pots bubbling on the stove not much spoke of their newly gained intimacy anymore. Geralt had left very little marks and then only in places that could easily be covered with clothes. Jaskier had tried to produce lovebites, but Geralts accelerated healing had thwarted his every attempt.

Jaskier didn't mind. The leftover tingle on his skin where Geralts fingertips had been burned into his memory was more than enough. And so was the pleasant soreness in his butt. He was still floating in a way, even though his last orgasm was quite a few hours ago. And Geralt, too, was in a good mood, tilting his head every now and then to catch Jaskiers quiet hums better.

It didn't take long before their peace was disturbed by intruders, of course. As though they had waited for them to show back up, their family came into the kitchen one by one, eyeing them up and down, Lambert even getting close enough to Jaskier to sniff at his hair.

Jaskier batted him away with a scowl, but Lambert only grinned and whistled. "Finally you reek like you're supposed to!"

"Lambert. Gross. Congrats you two." Eskel said, a small, genuine smile gracing his face. He hesitated before he clapped Geralt on the shoulder and, after a second of thought, pulled Jaskier into a brief hug.

"Don't break his heart. Please."

Jaskier shivered at the words whispered into his ear, a warm protectiveness rising in his chest and he squeezed Eskel to him for a moment more before letting go. "Never."

"Lambert that was cheating. No gold for you." Vesemir just said, giving Geralt and Jaskier each a bowl of stew.

"Aww come on I just gave them a nudge! How is that cheating!"

Shaking his head Jaskier gingerly sat down beside Geralt and watched the arguement between Vesemir and Lambert unfold. He wished the winter would drag on a little longer, so he could savour this feeling of home just a little while more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright only an Epilogue left! I really wanted to end it in this chapter but somehow it got too long again so I decided to hang on an epilogue.  
> The stuff in this chapter is the closest to writing smut I'll probably ever get XD
> 
> Thank you all for your patience!


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final small Epilogue is done~ This chapter ended up to be a lot shorter than I anticipated, but oh well.

Time was a cruel mistress. Sooner than any of them liked, the weather shifted and suddenly everything was over far to fast. Everyone already sat on their packed bags, of course. The warm spring sun calling them out onto the Path again. Still they had lingered as long as they had an excuse to stay.

Jaskier didn't want it to end yet. He had found a home here on top of this cold, deadly mountain, surrounded by nothing but wildernis and monsters. And family. That was the thing. He had never felt more loved and welcomed than in Kaer Morhen.

But even he wasn't immune to the siren call that was the Path. He might not have been a Witcher, but he _was_ a bard. Wanderlust was in his blood, engraved in his being. Even more so now that he was bound to Geralts wild soul.

They weren't the first ones to leave though, both hesitant to make the track to Yennefer, worried for several reasons about all the things that could go wrong and thus, deciding to stall their departure as much as possible.

Lambert was the most eager to set out again. He had been on a positive kind of edge for the last few days. He had been pacing the halls of the fortress and had often climbed the ramparts to look at the path down, trying to judge if it was passable again. Thankfully the prank war kept him docile enough not to start outright fights and Jaskier often found himself with a shoulder full of drunk Witcher complaining about how he really wanted to stay, but was also going to go crazy if he didn't get to leave soon.

Jaskier didn't quite know why the youngest of the Witchers was so excited to start his year of work, but from the smirks Geralt and Eskel wore he could very much guess.

It was very early in the morning, the fog hanging low and the sun barely up. It was still bitterly cold and Jaskier was shivering even though he was bundled up in his thickest clothes, a blanket and encased by Geralts arms. Usually he would have still been asleep. But then he would have missed Lamberts departure and that just wouldn't do.

Lambert was currently coming out of the stables, leading his horse out with a huge, nearly feral grin on his face. How someone could be bursting with so much energy so early in the morning would forever be a mystery to Jaskier.

"Geralt stop hogging the bard and let me say good bye to him!"

Jaskier felt the huff Geralt let out at the back of his head and soon after the cold air got its chance to nip at his body as he lost the shield at his back.

He was bereft of the warmth of a Witcher only for a brief moment, before Lambert picked him up and spun him around. It took a bit before Jaskiers sleep addled brain caught up with the sudden movement and his feet already touched the ground again when he let out a surprised squeak.

Lambert had the gall to laugh at him for it, hands still on Jaskiers shoulders and head coming closer to rest their foreheads against each other. Jaskiers heart fluttered at that, a lump climbing up his throat and tears threatening to gather at the corner of his eyes.

He was given a brothers farewell.

"Please don't get murdered on the Path." Jaskier pleaded.

"Will do. Bring presents next winter."

Jaskier let out a small, wet laugh. "Any preferences?"

"Show me what fancy clothes your lot wears. Wanna look ridiculous too."

Jaskier cuffed him on the back of his head, knocking their foreheads together on accident. "Bastard. See if I bring you anything now."

They parted and Jaskier stepped back to let Eskel and Geralt have their turn. Both squeezed their brother tight.

"Don't get into too much trouble with that cat of yours." Geralt cautioned.

"Fuck you we're smart. We don't get in trouble."

"That doesn't sound good. Geralt should I babysit him this year?"

"Hm..."

"Hey fuck off you two! Better keep an eye on the bard!"

Vesemir shook his head, breaking the arguement apart before it could turn into a fistfight, stepping in between them and pulling Lambert into a brief, but firm hug.

"Be back next winter."

"Don't tell me what to do." Lambert snarked back as if on instinct, but nestled into Vesemirs embrace for a second, before shoving the man off.

And that was it. One down the trail, not to be seen until the next cold season. They all stood and watched Lamberts back until they couldn't see him anymore, Eskel even climbing the walls to watch out for his brother just a little longer.

The breakfast after was a solemn affair.

Next to go was Eskel not even two days later. He had decided to be kind to Jaskiers sleep schedule and leave in the late morning, giving Jaskier a chance to wake up.

As with Lambert, Jaskier was the first to get a goodbye hug.

"Last chance to tell me what actually happened between you and Geralt, bard." Eskel whispered in his ear, low enough that not even Geralts hearing could pick up the exact words. At least that's what Jaskier gathered from the way Geralt leaned forward and tilted his head with a confused frown.

Shaking his head Jaskier nuzzled deeper into the warm skin of Eskels neck. "My lips are sealed."

"Your loss." Jaskier could hear the pout in Eskels voice.

He was let go and then brought back in with a large hand at the back of his neck, forehead resting against forehead. And just like last time Jaskier wanted to cry.

"Be safe." Jaskier whispered, eyes closed and enjoying the warmth of Eskel breath. Even though he already stank of garlic, courtesy of the meaty stew they had for breakfast.

"No promises. Take care of my idiot brother for me."

"I'll try. You know how much of a mule he can be."

The insistant clearing of a throat made them break apart with twin laughs. Jaskier watched the two embracing each other with a smile, happy to see Geralt relaxed enough to be so openly affectionate.

"Take care of the feral one, he's a keeper."

"I'll do my best. He's a slippery one."

"Hey! I have a name you know!"

Vesemir clapped him on the shoulder, muttering a fond "Menace." before taking his own time to send Eskel off. In the meantime Geralt situated himself behind Jaskier again, holding him close and protecting him from the cold wind.

When Jaskier couldn't see Eskel anymore he sniffed, arm immediately coming up to stiffle the noise. Arms tightened around him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah... It's stupid I know I'll see them next winter... Right?"

"Of course."

"If you're lucky Coen will be here, too next time." Vesemir added, his own eyes a little misty.

Two gone the keep started to turn from home into an empty shell of itself. Three was just too small of a number to fill all the crevices and hold at bay all the shadows. So it didn't take long before Jaskier and Geralt stood in front of the gates with Roach on one of the warmest days yet, saying their last goodbye to Vesemir.

"Where will you go this year?" Geralt enquired, after a brief hug, forehead touch and clap on the back.

"I might take a short detour through Oxenfurt, see if the Academy has more of his kind," he nodded at Jaskier at that. "to offer."

"Maybe spent a night or two with a certain lady. I heard her husband died a few years back. Would be a shame to leave her lonely."

Vesemir shrugged feigning nonchalance, but his small smirk betrayed him. "I might see to that too, then. Now _you_ " and he turned to Jaskier holding out his arms in an invitation Jaskier would never refuse. "Don't cause trouble and stay sharp. You got the daggers I gave you secured?"

"Yes sir."

Vesemir gave them both a last once over before nodding. "Be careful and try not to get swept up in things that aren't your business."

"You do know this is Geralt we are speaking about?"

"Jaskier..."

"Hrmph. Out with you now. Troublesome bunch."

Jaskier and Geralt both waved at him as they left, a little hummingbird spreading its wings in Jaskiers chest. This was it. The path before them. The keep looming at their backs. Once more they were on the way to adventure, heroics and heartbreak.

When they were well out of sight Geralt allowed them to stop and let Jaskier take a breath. They were both on foot, Geralt barely having to lead Roach down the trail. He was looking at Jaskier, calm and patient, while Jaskier tried to find a good rhythm to draw the air into his lungs with.

"Everything will change now, won't it." he asked, voice small.

Geralt tilted his head. "It has to. People wouldn't like seeing us close."

Jaskier hummed. "Yennefer?"

"We'll see her."

That was probably the most he could get out of his new lover for the foreseeable future. Jaskier decided to prod a little further though. Better rip the stitches out now rather than later.

"Cirilla?"

"I don't know, yet. There's unrest but as long as she is safe in Cintra I will not retrieve her."

Jaskier huffed not sure if he should feel frustrated or relieved. Their relationship was still so new. A child would surely come with a whole host of problems. Especially if that child was a princess. But you also didn't cheat Destiny. And Jaskier feared if Geralt continued to run from his it would come to drag him to where he was supposed to be from the start in the most painful of ways.

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier made a sound of acknowledgement, gazing off into the distance, down the Killer, not moving an inch.

"What we have... Are we... open? Closed?"

Wrinkling his forehead Jaskier debated what he should answer. He hadn't been in a committed relationship since... well, ever. The Countess de Stael had come close, but even then he still had one or two odd dalliances on the side. He loved Geralt wholeheartedly, would pick him above everyone else time and time again. But could he stay faithful in that sort of way?

In the end he shrugged scared to nip their relationship in the bud before it had even begun, but also unwilling to lie. "I'm not sure... I-"

"It's fine." Geralt was quick to sooth, anxious about the way Jaskier had briefly flickered, a new habit of his that, once it had appeared, was hard to get rid of.

Geralt laced their fingers together as he spoke, to reassure them both of their continued presence. "We'll figure it out." He promised and squeezed the strong hand in his.

Jaskier finally looked over to him, blue eyes sparkling, face and nose reddened from the cold air. They smiled at each other as Jaskier reciprocated the gesture.

"Alright. Onward to adventure then."

They dragged their fingers against the others as they let go and set out, one step after the other, down the Path. And into the Unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say thank you all so much for all the love and support of this story! Your comments inspired me greatly and there are still some ideas that I'm saving for later to include into the story. Srsly this fic would only be half as long if it weren't for you guys and I'm immensely greatful for your input! It was so much fun to play around with your ideas and to read all your reactions and kind words. THANK YOU!!! <3
> 
> I'm gonna probably take a short break to write the "Herding Wolves" Intermission drabbles before starting on the sequel for "Ghost of the Keep". But I'll try not to take too long to post the next part, promise!
> 
> In the meantime, feel free to comment if you want something to be included in the next installment! (Or send me an ask via tumblr @seralyra) I can't promise that I'll be able to write everything in as I do have a basic outline standing already, but I'll try my best to include the prompts and ideas that work!


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